Past, Present and Unforeseen
by Jackdawess
Summary: Hermione/Fleur F/F. Hermione is taken to Shell Cottage after being in the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and so begins a journey of the body and heart that takes herself and Fleur into the unknown. Adult content. M. Romance/Drama.
1. Taken

**A/N**

 **A Fleur & Hermione story. This story is essentially a romance/drama and is femmeslash. It has adult themes, scenes and language, so if you're offended by that sort of stuff, don't read it. It's rated M for a reason. The story starts just before Hermione is taken to Shell Cottage after Bellatrix Lestrange has finished with her.**

 **This story is another written for my own entertainment sparked from an idea I got while watching a French documentary film a couple of years ago. I might reveal what the film was at a later point. So if you like this story, great, if you don't, no hard feelings. But I thought I'd share it anyway. It's taken a long time between starting and finishing it, due to lots of time constraints and things going on in my real life. But I wanted to finish it, before I started posting the chapters. I used to hate seeing so many unfinished stories on here. This story will have 25 chapters. All are ready to post, so it just needs me to find the time to keep adding them.**

 **I actually haven't read any Potter fanfiction for a very long time, to keep myself fresh and not be influenced, although I do believe that the point(and sentiment) where my story starts, has been done before, but the journey of the whole story hasn't...not to my knowledge, unless there's someone as equally nutty as me out there. So before you think it's the same old stuff, believe me, it goes somewhere else...most probably into the land of 'wtf' for some people, but was something I wanted to play around with. And it has some characters I had in my head that I wanted to introduce.**

 **I have taken certain liberties and added my own mythology, and in some places physiology, to things with a slightly different take on veelas. I have used a combination of book and movie foundation for the characters and some scenes/settings. Fans and champions of Luna might like some of her content in this story.**

 **If you're only after sex and more sex, this might not be the story for you. There is some sex - quite a bit - but there is an actual story here too. So those 'skimmers' out there might find some stuff to their liking, but might be frustrated in having to get through the story to find it. LOL**

 **As always I've chosen not to write Fleur with that bloody awful exaggerated French accent. Not only does it drive me a little crazy reading it, but I think it's a bit insulting. I can write/read/speak a little French, but have chosen not to use it in the story to stop confusion and I've added a few bits of writer's licence to accommodate the choice. The actress Clémence Poésy who plays Fleur in the movies actually speaks English with hardly any accent at all in real life, which also decided things for me.**

 **Any mistakes on spelling, grammar, typing, continuity and general brain-fart errors, are entirely my doing. I don't own the characters, just borrowed them for a little while.**

 **Right, that's the boring A/N bit done...for now...although you might find the story boring. Anyways...here's the first couple of chapters...**

1: Taken

The unthinkable had happened; they had been captured, and despite Hermione's best efforts to conceal their true identities there was enough suspicion in their manner that had made their burly captors hesitate. As intellectually challenged as Greyback and his companions were, they had sensed that the three young people they had captured were much more than they had claimed to be. It was enough to change their course of action and to divert their intentions from taking their captives to the Ministry and taking them instead to a higher power: to Malfoy Manor and the Dark Lord himself.

Hermione had wracked her brain, desperately trying to find some course of action she could take to enable them to get away. Everything that came to her mind was impossible to achieve; impossible to achieve and get all three of them away, and there was no way she was going to leave anyone behind. She had an overwhelming feeling that this might be 'it'. At several points in the past few weeks and months, Harry, Ron and herself had faced immense danger and as scared as she had become at times, she had always felt that something would happen and they would escape, like they always had done over the years.

Walking through the tall foreboding iron gates, leading to a large country manor house, she didn't feel that spark within her that said an opportunity would arrive at any second, providing she kept her eyes and other senses alert. No, this time she felt helpless, and to an extent, _hopeless_ too. She was scared: for herself, for Ron and most importantly for Harry; the implications of what might happen to Harry also weren't lost on her: if they lost him, it would all be over, of that she was sure, and the whole magical _and_ muggle world would be at Voldemort's mercy.

In mere moments, Hermione's wonderings and fears about their location were confirmed when they were shown into the main drawing room of the house, to be faced by Bellatrix Lestrange, along with her slightly more sane sister, Narcissa, and the latter's husband and son. They were at Malfoy Manor and where everyone knew it to be the heart of Voldemort's operations.

Hermione had nervously searched the room with her eyes, sure that Voldemort himself would stand up from a chair somewhere. She had had hardly any time to look around and take in any of her surroundings and furnishings before everything happened at once, drastically. What had started as a preening session from Bellatrix at how grand everything was and how pathetic they all were, had turned in a flash, when the Sword of Gryffindor was revealed. Something had clearly unnerved the black-haired witch and she started shouting madly at everyone, including at her own lackeys, whom had brought in the captives.

Not being able to react, with having no wand, and not having the time to think of anything to do, Hermione was horrified to see Harry and Ron whisked away from the room and the next thing she knew she was being pinned to a wall, with Bellatrix's fierce dilated eyes staring into her face and the witch's wand poking into the side of her throat. Coherrent thought processes ceased after this point, as Hermione was aware of some new sensations: the strongest sensation was pain: a _lot_ of pain, _everywhere_.

It was a type of pain she had never felt before, as it wracked her whole body, yet as much as she wanted to curl up, she couldn't move and was compelled to be exactly where Bellatrix wanted her. At times she was pinned to the wall, at times to the floor and all the while having the Lestrange woman shouting at her and muttering things she didn't understand. At times Hermione could only scream in pain; she was aware that Bellatrix seemed to think that she, Ron and Harry had been into her vault at Gringotts, but that made no sense to the brunette. When she refused to answer, it was met with more painful consequences; when she did answer, it so obviously didn't please her captor and pain would result from that as well.

It became apparent to Hermione that she had been attacked with the _Cruciatus_ curse a few times, and also other things, because she had felt burning to her feet and hands, which would disappear again; she felt magical punches at random places, and other unexplainable pain as if from serious injuries: from being stabbed, to having a limb sliced off. After a very short time she felt her mind drift and felt herself almost become unconscious, not knowing how long her ordeal had been or how much more was to come. It might have been a few minutes or even a few hours, she had no comprehension of time at all. The pain and suggestions of pain, which completely befuddled her, seemed to last a long time, and were happening with more frequency as Bellatrix continued to interrogate her and became more frustrated with her. Like a breath leaving her body, she felt 'hope' begin to fade, and she felt herself pass into an almost catatonic acceptance of being helpless.

At one point Hermione was sure she had heard Ron shouting her name, but then wasn't so sure again, and wondered if she had imagined it. Hermione just wanted it all to end, and she thought it didn't matter if she said anything or not in answer to the questions, her life was already forfeit; even so she was determined to say nothing about Harry, Ron or anyone else they knew and remained silent. The last thought she had before everything went black and her hearing receded was a disturbing thought about Neville Longbottom's parents after Bellatrix had finished with them. _Better to be dead, than that!_ thought Hermione sadly, as she lost her fight for consciousness.

The only thing Hermione remembered with any clarity after then, was the pain stopping, some sort of kerfuffle, a little more pain, then feeling arms around her and Ron talking to her. Oddly she remembered a woman's voice right along with Ron's, and she was sure it was Luna, which made no sense to her at all. To confuse her further she heard Ron, the woman she thought was Luna, definitely Harry and that was joined by another couple of voices which she thought had been Bill and Fleur and another voice or two which sounded familiar but she didn't really recognize; that made no sense either. She had tried to open her eyes, but everything was blurred and everything was too painfully bright, so she shut her eyes again.

After an indeterminate amount of time, she opened her eyes again and saw she was in a bed, in a strange room; the curtains were closed and a lamp was on low. Her mind felt slow and as if her head was too big for her body. _I was dreaming about the others,_ she thought, miserably. _I was dreaming of what I hoped for. Which means I'm still at Malfoy Manor. I'm probably only in here because I passed out and was no more use to them until I'm awake again. Awake? That means the pain will start again. No!_

The despair that hit Hermione immediately brought tears to her eyes, she tried to say 'No!' but she couldn't seem to voice it or even whisper it. She heard footsteps outside the bedroom door and like a frightened animal she curled up into the foetal position on her side and pulled the bedcover over her head. She was shivering, shaking and cowering from what, and whom, she thought was coming for her again. The only sound she seemed to be making was a faint whining noise. She thought she sounded like a pining, scolded dog, but it was beyond her control.

The door opened and closed again, and Hermione felt the weight of someone sit on the bed and then place a hand on her; she flinched, and began to shiver more and almost convulse. "It's okay, Hermione. You're safe here," said a woman's voice, softly.

The bedcover was carefully pulled away, despite Hermione gripping it to try and remain covered; the light revealed Fleur, looking at her with concern. Hermione opened and shut her eyes a couple of times, trying to ascertain that she was indeed awake. She must have looked confused as Fleur said, "Yes, it's really me, and you're safe here."

Fleur rested her hand on Hermione's shoulder, a perfectly normal gesture of comfort and grounding, but Hermione flinched dramatically once more and continued to shake. Again the younger woman must have looked untrusting or gave a look like she was being tricked or feeling delusional as Fleur tried to reassure her more.

"I'm Fleur Weasley, formally Delacour, I have a sister called Gabrielle and the first night I stayed at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament, I asked for the bouillabaisse at dinner from your table."

Hermione's mind worked hard to take in the information. "Oh..." was all she could whisper.

"You are safe here. You escaped and they brought you here."

"The..the...they?" asked Hermione in a rasping croaky voice, as realization hit her. "Harry...?"

"Hey, they're fine," said Fleur, giving a warm smile. "Harry and Ron are staying here too, along with Luna, Dean Thomas, Mr. Ollivander and a ghastly goblin called Griphook."

Hermione shook her head, not being able to think clearly at all and wondering where on earth Luna and Dean and the wandmaker had come from and how they had a goblin with them too. The room she was in didn't look like any room at the Burrow, or anywhere she had seen before, but Fleur seemed to read her thoughts.

"You're at Shell Cottage, on the coast in Devon," said Fleur. "Bill and I have lived here a while. It's also an Order safe house."

Hermione tried to speak again, but her body was almost chattering again, she couldn't form any words as a wave of relief hit her with a huge jolt of nausea, which made her try to sit up and swing herself out of bed at the same time and she failed at both as she retched. Amazingly Fleur had seemed to sense what Hermione was feeling and had used the _Accio_ spell on a bowl, as Hermione vomited, sitting up on the side of the bed and nearly falling off the bed in the process had Fleur not had an arm around her.

"Ss...s...ss...sorr...sorry," croaked a still shaking Hermione, embarrassed, as Fleur helped her to lie back against the pillows.

"I don't want to hear you saying sorry to me," said Fleur with a serious expression. "I think you have been through hell. You have nothing to be sorry for." She gently brushed back strands of Hermione's hair which had fallen over her face and stuck there against the brunette's slightly sweaty skin. Another use of _Accio_ and Fleur used a cool damp cloth to soothingly wipe Hermione forehead and face. "I'm going to look after you and I'm going to be here for you."

In that moment Hermione felt so ill, and confused as well, that she didn't have the energy to refuse or question what Fleur had said, and she had so far seemed to have lost the ability to talk properly anyway. However, the feeling of relief at finally being safe and not having pain anymore overwhelmed her; it also puzzled her as to how the cruelty she had received had resulted in these bizarre side effects. She was trying to remember everything she had read about the _Cruciatus_ curse, from the basic minor trauma and mental anguish, to the extreme case of Neville Longbottom's parents, which worried her a great deal, but she couldn't seem to think clearly. As the thoughts confounded her she found her vision blackening once more, and her whole body go lax, and sink into the soft bed beneath her, despite being aware of a rogue shiver coursing through her body.

It must have been much later when Hermione awoke, and saw that the curtains had been drawn back a fraction to let in some light; she could see a blue sky with a few fluffy white clouds, which, as she stared long and hard at one clump, she could see they were moving across the sky. She couldn't look for more than a few moments, though, as the brightness made her eyes and head ache. It had taken her a few anxious moments to realize she was still at Shell Cottage and that her escape had been real.

Not long after Hermione woke up, Fleur walked into the room and as Hermione was lying on her side facing the window, with her back to the door, Fleur walked around the bed so she could see the brunette more clearly.

"You're awake," said Fleur. "I've kept checking on you when you stirred, but I thought you'd be asleep a lot longer."

Hermione didn't answer, but nodded her head.

"Would you like a cup of tea? A cup of cocoa? Juice?"

Again Hermione didn't answer, but gave the faintest of shakes of her head, and moved her gaze from Fleur to looking back out the window again, but finding the light still hurting her eyes, she closed her eyelids.

Fleur wasn't unduly perturbed. She poured out a glass of water from the jug on the bedside cabinet. "Try to at least drink some of that," she said kindly.

Hermione didn't respond and remained with her eyes shut, unsure herself as to why she was being silent and nearly mute. A few footsteps told her that Fleur was going to leave the room.

"I'll...I'll leave you to rest," said Fleur.

The door opened and closed and Hermione heard lowered voices outside the door. She reached for the glass of water and had a few sips as she listened.

"How is she?" asked the voice which Hermione knew was Ron's.

"She's sleeping," replied Fleur.

"Sleeping?" said Ron. "She's been sleeping for bloody hours!"

"She probably needs it," said a solemn voice, Hermione recognized as Harry. "We only heard some of it...but I know it sounded to us like it went on forever...whatever, you know, happened to her."

"Can we go in and see her?" asked Ron.

"No, not yet," said Fleur.

"But...but...we're her best friends?!" said an exasperated Ron. "We can make her feel better...I know she'll feel better if she sees us! I was told she sat with me when I was ill after I had that poisoned wine from Slughorn."

"Ron, she's not suffering with flu or a poisoned drink, from all you've told me she's been tortured!" said a very stern Fleur, an unmistakable waver in her voice. "We have to give her time and not rush her, or push ourselves on to her, or into her company. So far I don't even know if she has any injuries...and..."

There was some whispering and the sounds of footsteps fading. Hermione couldn't even smile at the obvious concern her friends had for her; not even a smile for hearing Ron being so desperate to see her and the tone of his voice making it obvious that he cared for her, despite his silence in not actually asking her out yet. No, the thoughts that Hermione held on to were about Fleur and in a lot of ways that surprised her.

Hermione and Fleur had a history of sorts, and it wasn't a particularly comfortable past. The brunette wondered why she was fretting over Fleur instead of staying with thoughts on Harry and Ron, or even why she wasn't wondering about the others in the house, or another horcrux, or what they needed to do next. Her whole body ached and she had been made to feel so much pain that she had no idea if she really was injured anywhere. As sluggish as she felt, she went over what she had heard since her awareness of being in Shell Cottage. As her mind went over events, like a person flicking through folders in a filing cabinet, it came to her: it was Fleur wanting to look after her and it was Fleur saying that people must not push themselves on to her.

 _Push themselves on to me?_ thought Hermione. _She's so obviously pushing herself on to me as some sort of nursemaid!_ She thought it through again. _Maybe that's unfair, because I'm sure I'm sort of awkward to deal with at the moment...and I did nearly throw up all over her. The trouble is she's just as awkward as I am. If only what happened hadn't happened...none of it!_

Lying in a comfortable bed, wanting to think about anything other than the last couple of days, Hermione went back through her rather vivid collection of memories, and her dealings with, whom was then, Fleur Delacour.

Fleur had first come into Hermione's life when the Triwizard Tournament was held at Hogwarts but the implications of their acquaintance during that time hadn't come to a head until the summer of 1996, shortly before Hermione, Harry and Ron were due to start their Sixth year at Hogwarts. Hermione had been on holiday to France with her parents that summer, searching for her father's ancestors' graves in the vast World War One military cemeteries of northern France and southern Belgium, including some around the area of the Somme. It might have been seen as boring or odd by some, but Hermione still enjoyed the time with her parents and with experiencing new and interesting things.

With around a week before school started again, Ginny had invited her over to the Burrow for the final few days of the holiday; she had been most insistent about it, in fact, and had mentioned something about a surprise when she got there. When Hermione had arrived, feeling a little nervous about seeing Ron again, and hoping he might have matured enough to actually ask her out, Ginny had nearly bowled her over when she greeted her.

"You're a life-saver!" Ginny said as she engulfed Hermione in a hug. "I couldn't wait till you arrived. If you couldn't have visited I'd have come over and kidnapped you!"

Mrs. Weasley had appeared from somewhere in the house and greeted Hermione, proceeding to then immediately offer food and drink, as was usual when anyone first arrived at the Burrow; when Hermione declined, Mrs. Weasley went off outside, leaving the friends to talk and Hermione to settle in. Ron had stood in the kitchen and looked uncomfortable as if he didn't know whether to hug Hermione too, so he sort of waved at her instead.

"All right, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Yes," answered the brunette, feeling equally uncomfortable and wanting to talk about something distracting instead. "Have you heard from Harry?"

"No, I never expect to. Dad's heard that he's okay, so he must be. I'm hoping he gets to spend the last couple of days with us, but there's no telling with him or what Dumbledore wants him to do."

"And everyone's been okay here?" asked Hermione.

"If madness is seen as _okay_ , then yes," replied Ron.

"Madness?" Hermione asked both Ron and Ginny.

"You can tell her, Ginny," said Ron with a little laugh.

"Tell me what?" said Hermione, the curiosity nearly making her feel irritable.

"We've got a _guest_ staying," said Ginny in a rather haughty voice.

"Who? An aunt?" wondered Hermione.

"I wish!" said Ginny. "I'd rather have three Auntie Muriels staying than the stuck up tart we're lumbered with."

Hermione had felt very confused and was looking from Ron to Ginny and back again, not knowing who on earth they were talking about. "I can't guess, so you're going to have to tell me."

"It's Bill...," began Ron, then he stopped to laugh over the situation.

"Well, I know Bill isn't a stuck up tart?!" said Hermione.

"It's Bill's bloody girlfriend!" said Ginny.

"No, Ginny, remember it's his _fiancée_!" said Ron in a mock posh voice.

"Whatever!" said Ginny. "All I know is he has the worst taste ever! Of all the women, he picks _her_!"

"She's not that bad, really," said Ron.

Ginny glared at her brother. "You _would s_ ay that, just because you get a bulge in your trousers if she so much as looks at you!" Ron looked about to protest with something scathing, if only he could find the words.

Hermione still didn't know who they were talking about. "Do I know her? Who is it?"

"Oh, you know her," said Ginny. "It's only bloody..."

The door had opened then and in walked Bill, followed by a very attractive blonde woman; a very attractive _familiar_ blonde woman.

"Hello, hello!" said Bill. "You arrived safely, then, Hermione? We hoped we'd get back from the shops to see you arrive."

"Ye..yeah, everything's fine...thanks," replied Hermione, taken completely off guard by the arrivals.

"I think you know my fiancée," said Bill, proudly taking hold of the blonde woman's hand.

"It's nice to see you again, Hermione," said Fleur Delacour, as she stood next to her husband-to-be.

"Er..hi, Fleur," said Hermione, not feeling completely able to get her tongue and brain working in the correct manner.

When Fleur had walked into the kitchen, Hermione had felt ice go through her veins, and down her spine. Of all the people she didn't want to see again, Fleur was at the top of the list at that point in time; yet here she was and it seemed likely that they'd be sharing the same house for the next few days, at least.

"Um...I think I'd better take my bag upstairs, Ginny," Hermione had managed to say.

Ginny didn't need anymore prompting, she always took any excuse to leave the presence of the former Beauxbatons student. Once in her room with the door closed both girls sat on their beds facing each other.

"Now you see why I was going crazy here!" said Ginny. "My brothers tend to just drool at her, even though they claim they don't like her. Mum can't stand her either, but she's nice to her face to keep the peace. Arggghhhhh!"

"You weren't wrong on surprises," said Hermione. "Nasty surprise."

"Not as bad as me finding out Bill's going to marry the trollop!" said Ginny, imitating a gag. "I'm hoping she turns her nose up and buggers off somewhere and this is just a phase Bill is going through."

"How did they get together?" asked Hermione.

"They claim they caught each other's eye at the Triwizard Tournament or some such drivel. More recently they met through Gringotts or something. I haven't asked too much because I'm really not particularly interested in the answer."

"We don't have to be around much, I'm sure we can find other things to do," offered Hermione hopefully.

"Absolutely!" replied Ginny. "At least if I'm looking after you as _my_ guest, I won't get roped into so much stuff that might involve being around blondie. Just over one week, _one week_ , and Hogwarts will come to the rescue."

"Yes, thankfully," said Hermione. "So she's staying here that long?"

"As far as I know, and probably a bit longer after we've all gone back to Hogwarts."

Hermione had never shared it with anyone else and certainly not with her closest friends of Ron, Harry and Ginny, but at that time she would have gone so far as to say she hated Fleur. It wasn't only the manner in which Fleur had first arrived at Hogwarts, or the way she seemed to reel in every male who set eyes upon her, or the fact she was in competition against Harry for the Triwizard Tournament, it was more than that. Hermione and Fleur had history. Hermione was amazed that a particular incident hadn't been revealed and had been waiting all of her Fifth Year for it to finally leak out. It hadn't and for that she was thankful, and grateful that others weren't as knowledgeable about some things as her, but she would never forget what had happened; and yet here was the Frenchwoman acting as if nothing untoward had ever happened between them, or that she had conveniently forgotten. Hermione hadn't forgotten; she would never forget.

The first dinner they had, with most of the Weasleys present around the table as usual, had turned out to be uncomfortable. She remembered that event vividly too.

The seating had worked out so that Hermione sat next to Ginny, with Ron the other side, which solved Hermione's first concern about sitting next to Fleur, but that didn't avoid the other possibility, which occurred, when it turned out that Fleur would be opposite her. The brunette had averted her gaze from the Frenchwoman and managed to become interested in pointing out that Ginny had a loose thread on the sleeve of her shirt. For once Ron was being very helpful in talking to her too; however, even with all these subtle avoidance tactics Hermione could feel when Fleur was looking at her. She wasn't sure if it was something to do with the part-veela side of Fleur, or whether it was only the very human ability of knowing when someone was looking at you.

The third possibility that Hermione wanted to avoid was talking to Fleur and, so far, with both Ron and Ginny on either side she was able to use it to her advantage, until they heard Fleur speak:

"Hermione? I heard you were on holiday in France, yes? Did you enjoy it there?"

She could avoid it no longer; that is to say she _could_ avoid it but only at the expense of drawing even more unwanted attention. She answered, after a not completely hidden nervous breath. "Yes. I went with my parents. It's not the first time I've been to France."

"Really? How many times have you been there?" asked Fleur, oblivious to any awkwardness she was causing to her fellow house guest.

"Um...I've been several times since I was young. My parents have always liked France, and so have I," said Hermione, trying to talk normally and casually, and not grit her teeth.

"Which part did you go to this summer?" Fleur continued the conversation, the rest of the Weasleys interested too.

"Several places in the north, some around the Somme area; my Dad was looking for ancestors' graves, from World War One."

"Molly, didn't you have a Great Uncle killed in that muggle war?" Arthur Weasley asked his wife, to which Hermione was so very grateful to have the focus taken away from herself.

"Yes, on my mother's side," said Mrs. Weasley. "He helped to invent some kind of muggle weapon...can't remember what it was now, but the silly man forgot to keep his head down in a trench one day and, well, he was killed. Magic might be incredibly useful in muggle wars, but it doesn't make a witch or wizard totally immune to a stray muggle bullet."

There had been a little silence, as everyone continued with dinner and Hermione thought she had got past the hurdle of Fleur for the evening, as she talked with Ginny about the advantage a person on a broomstick would have had on dropping bombs, compared with a muggle biplane in World War One. At that moment Hermione would have happily discussed collecting milk bottle tops, just as an excuse to avoid eye contact or conversation with the person seated opposite her. Yet again Hermione was disappointed, when the dessert things were being cleared away.

"So, Hermione?" the voice of Fleur sounded again. "If you've been to France a lot, do you speak French?"

"Yes, some," replied a rapidly tiring, Hermione.

"Oh, it's just if you wanted, I could teach you some while you're here, to use the next time you go to France?"

The sentence and offer angered Hermione, but again she had to try and hide it and fume invisibly which she wasn't completely successful on doing. It was the very sentence that explained a lot of why Hermione was so shaken by Fleur's presence; why she was feeling hatred and had never wanted to see Fleur again.

"I speak French very well, thank you," said a cool, calm Hermione. "Some might say, too well." The last part she said while managing to fix Fleur with a look that should have told the Frenchwoman exactly what she was feeling, but again Fleur seemed oblivious to any problem.

"Oh, well, you can always practice with me if you want to," said Fleur. "I'm told I'm a good teacher."

Ron gave a little laugh. "I don't think you'd have much luck teaching Hermione anything, she knows everything already." He laughed again, with Ginny and Bill joining in.

Hermione tried to smile, but she wasn't thinking straight and she hated how awkward she felt and how much everything felt out of her control, it actually made her feel faint. "I think I'm going to go upstairs for a little while," she said suddenly. "I'm feeling a bit...I don't know."

"Are you feeling ill, Hermione?" asked Ron, of all people.

"I don't know...a bit..." Hermione couldn't think of anything convincing to say.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been dealing with the dishes in the kitchen, but had overheard the conversation and Mrs. Weasley came over to the brunette. "Are you feeling unwell, dear?"

"A little, maybe...I don't know."

"You _are_ looking a bit pale," said Mrs. Weasley looking at her and feeling Hermione's forehead with the back of her hand. "You're feeling a bit feverish too."

"I think it's a headache coming on, that's all," said Hermione. "I'll just go and lie down for an hour or so, get an early night maybe, I'll be fine." She stood up, feeling again that eyes were staring at her from across the table: French eyes. _What is that bloody woman? A basilisk, or something?!_ She thought, wanting to get away from the gaze she felt was burning into her.

"I'll go upstairs with you," said Ginny, standing up too. "Come on."

Once in Ginny's bedroom, Hermione did lie down on her bed and gave a little groan.

"Do you want me to get one of Mum's headache potions? Do you need anything at all?" asked Ginny, genuinely concerned.

"No...I don't know," said Hermione, knowing she had said that several times in recent minutes.

"Did something happen in France?"

"Why do you say that?" asked Hermione, sitting up again.

"Well, I sort of noticed you got a bit tetchy and defensive about it. I wondered if you'd had a bad memory from there, or something else happened there?"

"No, the holiday was fine. France has always been fine."

"Oh, so Fleur pissed you off when she offered to teach you French?" said Ginny, trying to work out why she detected some animosity and what it was about. "I think she meant well, but I imagine she'd be a patronizing cow as a teacher."

"Hmph!" replied Hermione as she laid back on the bed and put an arm over her face as if blocking out the light from her eyes and muttered to herself. "Me? I need to learn French from _her_? That's a good one! She thinks I don't know French...she thought I didn't know. I knew..."

"Knew what?" asked Ginny, having listened to her friends grumblings.

"Hmm?" Hermione hadn't realized she'd said so much of her mutterings loud enough to be heard. "Nothing...just thoughts...nonsense."

"I know the silly mare drives me nuts, sounds like she's done the same to you," said Ginny, not wanting to push her friend, but sensing that something wasn't quite right; something was feeling fragmented about the whole of dinner. Her voice spoke of hopefulness that Hermione would tell her eventually. "Anyway, if you ever need to talk, or have a rant, you'll have a willing listener."

"I'm all right, Ginny," replied Hermione, but not unkindly. "Thanks, though."

"So my brother hasn't asked you out yet, then?" asked Ginny, trying to change the subject. "Has he sent you an 'asking out' letter that I don't know about?"

"No," said Hermione, actually able to enjoy the subject for once, because it stopped the conversation on Fleur. "I doubt he ever will. I'm not going to drop anymore hints. He obviously doesn't get it and I'm invisible to him."

"I think you could do better," said Ginny. "I know he's my brother...but...well, maybe _because_ he's my brother I _know_ you can do better!"

"Can I? I don't exactly have blokes breaking down my door in droves," said Hermione.

"Don't be hard on yourself, you'll find someone, even if it's not my idiot, blind brother."

"Easy for you to say," said Hermione. "You have multiple options."

"Doesn't mean I want any of those options!? The one option I would really like, tends to wander off after mentally unstable rival quidditch players!"

"Harry?" inquired Hermione. "You still want him? After all this time?"

"I know, I'm ill, I need come sort of soul-cleansing potion, but I can't help it," admitted Ginny. "Maybe he doesn't like redheads? Maybe he doesn't want to go out with team mates or his best friend's sister. He always was a bit old fashioned on things like that."

"Harry likes you, I'm sure of it," said Hermione reassuringly.

"Well, I can't keep waiting around for something that might or might not happen," said Ginny.

"Ahh, Dean Thomas with a little Michael Corner diversion?!" Hermione laughed.

"Michael Corner was a mistake, I mean, he looked like a little kid brother walking next to me?! Dean on the other hand is cute and kind and I like him a lot," Ginny blushed slightly.

"At least you'll stand a chance of seeing if Harry's jealous," said Hermione, considering the situation. "If he is, then you'll know he likes you. Hmm, I don't even have the Michael Corner option to make Ron jealous."

"You'd go out with Michael just to make Ron jealous?"

"I'd go out with Dumbledore if I thought it would work!" said Hermione, making them both burst out laughing. "It doesn't work, though. Ron was jealous of Viktor Krum, but other than throwing a strop at the Yule Ball he never took it any further. His reaction to jealousy isn't pleasant and is never productive in getting him to act in the way you'd hope."

"Perhaps once we're back at Hogwarts and you're spending a lot of time with Ron again, he'll open his bloody eyes," said Ginny. "For now, we have a week of 'Phlegm'!"

Hermione had to laugh at that. "Yes, well, she _does_ make me want to cough up something nasty!"

XXXXXXXXXX

As she lay in the bed at Shell Cottage and thought back, Hermione was amazed at how simple life had seemed back at the Burrow; it was simple compared to her life lately, and she almost wished that her worst experience had been her contact with Fleur. The memories that came to her then, were in the days that followed at the Burrow that summer.

The next couple of days with the Weasleys had passed without any significant incident, Hermione and Ginny kept themselves to themselves, and they even went shopping a couple of times in the nearby town. Fleur and Bill went into work for a day or two and had other things to do, but inevitably another awkward dinner came along, when Fleur voiced another passing question to the brunette as they were eating dessert.

"Hermione, Bill tells me your parents are dentists, is that something you've ever wanted to do?"

The question stumped Hermione for a moment; the person asking it, the strange interest and the question itself. "I...I've never really thought about it...but, I don't think I've ever wanted to be a dentist."

"Would that disappoint your parents?" asked Fleur.

"No. I don't think so," said Hermione, slightly defensive again.

"There's no rush to decide all that," Bill said, beginning to notice the strange friction between the women. "I never knew what I wanted to do for a career. I had all these options and the more choices I had the more confusing it became."

"It's always better to have all those choices, than none at all," said Fleur.

 _Yeah, there's always choices,_ thought Hermione. _And Fleur has had many choices, but hasn't always taken the best one._

"Fred, George and me have made a bet on Ginny," said Bill, trying to move to a subject that didn't seem to make Hermione uncomfortable.

"You _have_?" asked an intrigued and slightly worried Ginny. "Dare I ask, what about?"

"We've put a bet on, that you'll play professional quidditch before your 19th birthday," said Bill.

"Shit! You haven't?!" answered a slightly disturbed Ginny. "What the hell made you do that?"

"We've all seen you play," said Bill. "And some of us have heard you'll be watched the next couple of years by a particular set of persons from some of the professional quidditch teams."

"Bloody hell!" said Ginny.

"Bill, don't put pressure on the girl," said Mrs. Weasley. "We all know how good she is, but to add that onto her?!"

"I haven't bet my life savings on her," said Bill. "If she doesn't, she doesn't...I just think she will."

"As do I," said Fleur.

 _What would Fleur know about quidditch!?_ Hermione had thought, only just stopping herself from blurting out her thoughts. _She probably spends most of her time wearing out every mirror she passes, or talking nonsense with her bitchy Beauxbatons friends._

"Do you play quidditch, Hermione?" the Frenchwoman asked.

"No," said Hermione, flatly. "It's not really my thing."

"That's a shame," said Fleur.

"Why?" asked Hermione, with the slightest of annoyance apparent to everyone else in the room.

"There's such freedom to be had when flying. Often a person who is extremely gifted academically needs to find an outlet to release their...their suffocated energy," explained Fleur, only slightly mangling the pronounciations of 'suffocated' and 'energy'.

"I've never felt that need," said a defensive Hermione. "As I said, quidditch isn't my thing."

Ginny had been watching the exchanges and could see her friend was getting more and more agitated by talking with Fleur and came to the rescue. "Anyway, I want to look through a couple of those books you were going to give me this year, Hermione."

Glad to have a distraction and an open invite to escape the room and Fleur, Hermione soon caught on. "Yes, they're still in my bag," she said as she stood up and they began walking away, feeling those eyes burning into her back again and trying to ignore it. "They're nearly like new..."

Once in Ginny's bedroom again the redhead immediately questioned the situation. "What is going on with you and Phlegm?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione, almost snapped. "Nothing's going on!"

"Look, I hate her, you know I do, but you seem to be hating her even more than me," explained Ginny. "Bill kept giving you odd looks, as did my Dad. Has she said something to you? If she has, I'll have it out with her...gladly...she can't go around my house upsetting my friends!"

"No!" said Hermione. "She hasn't said anything to me."

"So why all the defensiveness?"

"I don't really want to talk about it now," said Hermione. "It's nothing really...just some things she's made me think about that have annoyed me."

"The dentist and quidditch thing?"

"Sort of. She's being very nosy and I've never liked that," Hermione said, telling a white lie and not wanting to reveal the real reason why her blood boiled in her veins over Fleur Delacour.

Harry had arrived unexpectedly the following day, having been travelling with Dumbledore. The story of his meeting with Horace Slughorn greatly interested all at the Burrow. Everyone always enjoyed having Harry at the Burrow, because it was so obvious how much _he_ enjoyed being there.

Hermione spent a lot of Harry's first day with him and Ron, talking about Voldemort-related issues and other bits of news, official and unofficial. The brunette had wanted to laugh when she saw Ginny and Harry around each other, because despite all the redhead's talk of basically being cool about things, she was acting a little more dithery than usual when around Harry. What was encouraging for Hermione's hopes for that pair was that she had caught Harry looking at Ginny in an appreciative manner too. _There's hope!_ she had thought, _maybe not for me and Ron, but Ginny and Harry is possible...perhaps...maybe..._

After a trip to Diagon Alley the next day they had all gone back to the Burrow, and Ron and Harry wanted to play some quidditch, asking Ginny and Bill to join them. The Weasleys had a special area where they could play quidditch away from muggle eyes. The Burrow was also a place that was surrounded by varied countryside, which held a wide variety of potion ingredients growing around the house and gardens. That day Hermione wanted to find some particular items for her ingredients stock, which she used in practice and mild experiments. As she heard the whoops and shouts from somewhere above and yonder, from the four up on their brooms, Hermione wandered to the edge of the Burrow's land, where a little stream separated the very end of the garden from a small wood. It was in the wood she wanted to find some particular ingredients, and she had several paper bags with her for her collecting.

She hopped over the stream and was searching the base of trees for a type of moss, and the fifth tree she came to, she found what she was looking for. Hermione crouched down and with her penknife cut free a small clump of the moss, and carefully slid it into one of her bags, before folding the top down, so none fell out.

"What are you doing out here?"

The voice had startled Hermione and nearly made her fall over backwards. She sprang to her feet and spun around to be faced by Fleur. "Um...collecting some ingredients, that's all." _Go away and leave me alone!_ she thought, as she turned her back on the Frenchwoman and bent down to cut some more moss away.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes!" said Hermione. "I'm fine." _I'd be even better if you pissed off!_ she had thought.

"Oh. Then please tell me what you're so angry about. Why are you angry with me?" asked Fleur. "And don't tell me you are not, because I know these things."

Hermione exhaled a breath, that nearly came out as a growl of frustration. "Angry with you? What could I possibly be angry with you about?!" she said, rhetorically, but with very little genuine humour.

"That's why I'm asking, because it seems obvious that you _are_ angry with me," said Fleur. "I want to know why?"

"You don't know?" asked Hermione. "Of course you don't, you probably don't even remember!?"

"Remember what?"

"See? You walk over people, and conveniently forget that even the little things matter to some. Small kindnesses live long with people, as do hurts and insults," explained Hermione.

Fleur walked closer so she didn't have to raise her voice, more than was comfortable. "Hurts? Insults?"

"Yes, YOU!" said Hermione, not wanting to talk about it, but faced with it now she was unable to stop herself from blurting things out. "I speak French, _very_ well. I heard you that day, at Hogwarts, when you stopped me to ask about Harry, I heard exactly what you said to your friends as I walked away, what they said back and how you went even further with it. Couldn't you see that I'd heard you when I turned back again? Couldn't you see that I'd understood every word you'd said?!"

"Oh!" Fleur replied as she remembered something and the memory came crashing back to her. "That was nonsense, only silly stupid girls talking."

"Yeah, well, maybe not all of us have thick skins, maybe some of us are sick of being made fun of," said Hermione, feeling the smallest of lumps in her throat and trying desperately to hold herself together. "I know what you think of me, I knew what you thought of me then! "

"It's not true," said Fleur. "It was schoolgirl talk, that's all. It wasn't that bad. I thought we got on quite well throughout that year, didn't we?"

"Wasn't that bad?" repeated Hermione. "You humiliated me, and what's even worse about it, is that you thought I didn't understand a word of it to humiliate me further! Well, I understood it all right! And it wasn't just the one time, I heard you a couple of other times too, when you thought I didn't know."

"Hermione, it...it was sort of expected of me...you know, to be cool...it's not necessarily what I actually..."

"To be cool you had to be insulting to another girl? Oh that's classy!?" Hermione nearly spat. "You never said sorry, not even when everyone left at the end of term. No, because you thought I didn't know, that I didn't understand it!?"

"I didn't mean any of it, I was fooling around and it was just something to say...the first thing I thought of...to..."

"Don't you try to justify it!" said Hermione, her eyes burning with unshed tears. "You said I was an ugly little virgin who was as dried up as the books I read. That I must be a cheat and a fake. You said someone would have to be blind and stupid to go out with me. You said..."

"Hermione..."

"You said I must have drugged Viktor Krumm, because no one would take me for all the gold in Gringotts," Hermione did have a stray tear working its way down her cheek now. The words were perhaps tame and rather silly, now she spoke them, but hearing them and remembering the accompanying laughter and Fleur's almost preening satisfaction in the adulation and laughter made everything worse. "You said one or two other disgusting things too at other times. Why, did you do that? Why did you have to be so nasty to my face and humiliate me in front of all your friends? They smirked and laughed at me wherever I went for the rest of the year. Do you have any idea what that was like, with everything else going on?"

Fleur looked genuinely shocked. "I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. I had no idea...I'm sorry."

"No idea?! People like you, never...never realize the people they walk all over," sniffled Hermione, unable to stop another stray tear, and not caring at the same time. "People always think people like me have no feelings and that we get used to it: used to being the butt of people's jokes. I'm surprised you didn't add the French for 'mudblood' in with all the other insults...every damn Slytherin calls me a mudblood."

"I would never use that word, in _any_ language!" said Fleur, affronted.

"You used nearly every other word to describe me!" said Hermione. "Why did you have to be like that? How could you forget? Was I just another stupid inferior girl to add to all the others you've insulted and...and...you don't have any explanation other than it was just _'something you did'?"_

Fleur walked forward and taking an option she hardly had time to think over, she wrapped her arms around Hermione and embraced her. "Hey, shh. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

Hermione pushed Fleur away with a shove, moving back from her. "Get off me! I don't want your hugs! I probably repulse you anyway, and that means your hug is just as insincere as the rest of you!"

"You want to know why I said those things?" said Fleur, in a very stern, almost angry voice, not seeming to like being shoved away. "Why I said them to the girls around me? "

"Because you were being a bitch?!" Hermione answered for her, before making to turn and walk away, not wanting to hear anymore nonsense.

Fleur grabbed Hermione's arm, in a firm grip, and stopped her from leaving. "I'll tell you why I said those things. Since I met you at that first evening at Hogwarts, my friends had commented that I was too interested in you and kept looking at you. Some of them have veela blood too and notice things like that more than others. I wanted to shut them up."

"So instead of telling them to shut up, you humiliated me instead?!" stated Hermione. "Why on earth does it matter if you were interested in who I was? Your school's students were interested in talking to a lot of the Hogwarts students, and made a lot of friends, as I remember."

"You don't understand," said Fleur. "I didn't want to just talk to you and make friends with you. I wanted to..." She couldn't say the words, and let Hermione's arm go.

"You wanted to, what? Smack me around, see how many French insults you could hurl at me before I caught on?!"

"No! I couldn't let them see that I wanted to...," Fleur stumbled on her words again, and as the saying went about actions speaking louder than words, she quickly put her hand to Hermione's cheek, leaned in and pressed her lips to the younger girl's.

Hermione jumped back, dropping her paper bags. "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

"Showing you," said Fleur, nearly shaking with the implications of what she had just done. "Showing you what I wanted from you when I first saw you. What I wanted to hide from the other girls."

"This is just another trick, another thing to throw me off, to play with me," said Hermione. "You disgust me!"

Fleur had visibly looked angry now; fuming would have been an appropriate description. She walked towards Hermione, but the brunette backed away, so Fleur walked forward again, her eyes in a fierce stare.

"Stay away from me!" said Hermione, drawing her wand, feeling confused and battered.

Fleur walked another step closer, not seeming to be bothered by the wand pointed at her, and she could see that Hermione couldn't back further away as she met the trunk of an oak tree, making her stumble slightly.

"Leave me alone!" said Hermione, her hand shaking, not at all sure what was happening and whether things were getting dangerous or not. "Please, leave me alone!"

The anger immediately dropped from Fleur's face and she now looked confused herself and even fearful. She had backed away, holding up her hands, apologetically, her face pale. "I'm sorry," she said. "For everything; for then, and for now, I'm sorry, Hermione, please forgive me."

Hermione dared to walk a pace to her side, and then moved another few careful steps, never taking her eye, or her wand's aim, off Fleur, as she bent to pick up her paper bags of ingredients and then broke into a jog back towards the Burrow.

She didn't see Fleur again until the Battle at the Astonomy Tower and then things were so serious and upsetting with Dumbledore's death and Bill's wounding that they hardly had a moment to acknowledge the other in any way. Hermione had actually admired Fleur's courage in dealing with Bill's injury and in dealing with Mrs. Weasley. With the severity of the magical world's situation Hermione felt that her personal problem with Fleur was now redundant and irrelevant. The point was, Fleur knew why Hermione had felt the way she had, and in saying it to her face it had helped her to let it go, to an extent, and the thought of Fleur having had a crush on her was too ridiculous for her to give it credit any longer.

However, the two women met again at Fleur's wedding to Bill and once again confusion and implications reigned supreme.


	2. Awake

2: Awake

Hermione had drifted off into a dreamless sleep and only woke up again when she felt a burning pain in her arm. She groaned and felt panic, thinking she was back in Bellatrix's company until she opened her eyes and recognized the comfortable room at Shell Cottage. She discovered that her arm had gone to sleep and quickly moved it and allowed the blood to flow back into it, flexing her fingers, wincing slightly at the prickling sensations that followed. The door opened and in walked Fleur, making Hermione wonder if the Frenchwoman had some sort of radar to detect when she was awake.

Fleur noticed that the glass of water was empty and was pleased to think Hermione had been drinking fluids, at least. There was so much Fleur would have liked to have known, and the younger woman could see the difficulty Fleur was having, from her facial expressions, in choosing her words or suppressing what she really wanted to ask, instead the blonde woman said, "Would you like some soup, Hermione?"

"I...I..d...d...," Hermione tried to answer, before her dry throat made her cough. She moved to pour herself some more water, but Fleur got there before her and poured her a glass. It felt ages since she had last spoken, after her almost lack of speech earlier and she wondered if her vocal chords had deserted her. She took several small sips of water until her dry throat was soothed. She could actually smell cooking and she had to admit even with as little appetite as she had, it smelled nice. "What is it?" she asked, relieved to find her voice again, albeit at a low volume.

"Vegetable," said Fleur. "I made it for all of us. It's the easiest thing to make which everyone will like and can be made in large quantities."

"How...how long have I been asleep?"

"A while, it's late afternoon, and you arrived in the early hours of morning," replied Fleur. "I thought we'd get the soup ready for an early dinner...or what you English call, 'tea'."

"I've been asleep that long?" wondered Hermione.

"You obviously need it. I wasn't going to disturb you, especially as you looked so peaceful."

"I'll just go to the...er...loo," said Hermione. "Is it across the landing?"

"No we had an ensuite bathroom added to the bedroom, over here." Fleur gestured to a door facing the bed, to one side, which Hermione had thought might have been a cupboard or wardrobe of some kind. The Frenchwoman had opened the door and it looked remarkably spacious inside, such was the benefit of magical extensions.

Hermione pulled back the bedcovers and swung her legs out of the bed and carefully stood up and on attempting two steps she stopped; for some reason she could feel no strength in her body. She turned back to the bed but instead of sitting down normally she swayed a little and literally fell down onto it.

"Do you want me to Apparate you there?" Fleur asked.

"I can't ask you to take me to the toilet!?" said a truly horrified Hermione.

"You're not asking me. I'm offering," said Fleur. "The other alternative is you trying to Apparate and splinching yourself in your tired state, or using...a chamber pot."

The last suggestion made Hermione's eyes go wide. "All right, all right! Apparate me there, and I'll call you when I'm ready to go back."

"Excellent," said Fleur holding Hermione's hand to Side-Along Apparate her and muttering. "Glad that one's sorted out!"

A few minutes later, Hermione opened the bathroom door and tried a few unsteady steps, and Fleur had to go to her side and support her back to the bed. "I thought you were going to call for me?"

"I can't...I don't...," Hermione began. "It's just me, okay? I don't do 'being unwell' at all. Staying in bed isn't going to make me stronger or my legs any more likely to work!"

Fleur sat of the edge of the bed after guiding Hermione back to it. "You're definitely not coming downstairs, yet. I'll bring your soup up here."

"It's pathetic! _I'm_ pathetic!" said Hermione, angry with herself.

"No, you're not," said Fleur. "You've been through a lot and probably haven't eaten anything in hours and hours. Don't force yourself. You've been through a bizarre set of circumstances, give yourself some time. I'll be back in a few minutes."

 _'Don't force yourself'?_ thought Hermione. _I wasn't aware I was forcing myself to do anything beyond stand up and walk. This is incredibly pathetic of me; I don't care what Fleur says._ Thinking of awkward and pathetic things in bizarre circumstances, as she waited for Fleur to return with some soup, her mind went back to the last time she had seen Fleur, at the blonde woman's wedding to Bill a few months ago:

The wedding had been a genuine highlight for most people, amidst an evergrowing sense of darkness; it was something that the majority of people seemed determined to enjoy, as it might be the last opportunity to enjoy _anything_. However, Hermione, Ron and Harry had planned to leave and start their horcrux search very soon after the wedding and they were perhaps the only ones with their minds occupied by things other than the wedding itself; but they never imagined it would all start the same day; as usual Hermione had been prepared for anything, though.

The wedding itself had been nearly perfect and most of the female guests were left sniffling into tissues...except Hermione, and as the reception went into full swing inside the enormous tent the Weasleys had erected for the event, Hermione left and went back to the house. She glanced around the tent first, noting that Ginny was dancing with her 'cousin', or more precisely Harry in polyjuice potion disguise. Ron seemed to be stuck next to Auntie Muriel at a table for the moment, but she had noticed the appreciative looks he'd given her most of the day, which pleased her a little. At that moment, though, Hermione wanted some time to herself to think, with no one around and no one fussing and worrying about wedding arrangements.

She went to the room she shared with Ginny, in the ordinary part of the house, and not the extended part the Weasleys had created for all the guests. She sat on her bed and looked at the small beaded bag she had enchanted to hold everything and anything. At that very moment she thought of another book that might be helpful; it was only a basic charms book from their Third Year at Hogwarts, but sometimes the basic simple things could be more useful, and easier to forget, than the more advanced magic. She moved the book from her school bag into her enchanted bag.

For a few minutes she had sat silently, trying to block out everything: she pushed all the worries and fears she had deep down inside her and only concentrated on taking deep calming breaths. She could hear the slight mumble of activity from outside at the reception in the tent, but she didn't let that distract her. _I can do this,_ she thought, trying to strengthen her resolve. _Harry, Ron and I, are going to be fine and we're going to succeed, somehow. It won't be easy, but take one step at a time and try. That's all we can do, try our..._

"Are you okay, Hermione?"

Hermione's eyes flew open to find Fleur standing in the doorway, looking every inch the princess in her wedding dress. "Yes...yes, I'm fine. Are you?"

"Taking a break, which if I don't, I'll never last the rest of the evening," said Fleur with a smile. "Have you enjoyed the day?"

"I should be asking _you_ that?!" said Hermione.

"Yes, yes it's been a day of dreams; a day to create even more dreams," replied Fleur, in a wistful voice.

"It's been lovely, hasn't it?" said Hermione, unsure as to what to say, when in truth, her mind hadn't been totally focused on the wedding at all.

Fleur looked around behind her, walked a couple of paces back onto the landing, then walked into Ginny's bedroom, closing the door behind her and carefully sat next to Hermione, turning to look at her with a very serious expression, much to Hermione's confusion and concern. "You're planning something, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, unsure as to how much Fleur had guessed and just what she was referring to.

"You, Harry and Ron, you're going somewhere, or going to do something? I heard that you won't be going back to Hogwarts."

Hermione sighed. "We won't be going back there, no. I'm not sure it would be safe for Harry or me, in truth."

"That's not all of it, is it?" Fleur continued to inquire.

"I can't tell you, Fleur, even if I wanted to."

"I understand, but I'm right, aren't I?"

"All I _can_ tell you is that we're doing some things Dumbledore and Harry started. We need to finish some things for him. I can't tell you anything else, because the least you know the..."

"Safer, I'll be?" said Fleur, with a hint of amusement.

"Yes," replied Hermione, as she looked at the Frenchwoman and saw the little smile. "What's funny about that?"

"Funny? Nothing really," said Fleur. "Only that I never thought you'd be worried about my safety!?"

"It's not just _you_ , you know?!" said Hermione, sternly. "It's everyone around you too. We haven't told Ginny anything much either, nor her parents."

The fact was, at this point, despite the awkward situation of the year before, Hermione considered Fleur as part of the 'whole', and an ally to admire, because she had really given herself to the Order and proved her worth even more when she volunteered to be a 'decoy Harry', to collect him from the Dursley's that night. A night that had seen the death of Mad-Eye Moody and George Weasley injured in the skirmishes. All things considered Hermione hadn't had many conversations with Fleur, and not alone with her, but she felt relatively comfortable in her presence, now.

"Forgive me, I'm being a bit silly. I knew what you meant and I understand it," said Fleur.

This immediately amused Hermione. "Forgive you? Again?" she replied, then laughed, which made Fleur laugh too.

"You'll be leaving soon, won't you?" asked Fleur, more serious again.

Hermione only nodded her head slowly to acknowledge the question.

"Take care, Hermione. All of you, take care, but especially you."

"Am I in more danger?"

Fleur was quiet for a moment. "I do not know about that, but you're more precious to me and it would affect me a lot if something happened to you."

Instead of confusion or a tired, irritated reaction, Hermione actually felt touched by Fleur's words. Although they hadn't really spoken much to each other, more than passing comments, and Hermione hadn't forgotten that Fleur claimed to have had a 'thing' for her, it didn't seem to bother her when Fleur's feelings for her were again brought to the surface. "Well, I always try to take care, but we don't really know what's out there. Besides...," the brunette said with a smile. "...you'll be too busy with your new husband to worry too much about us."

"You'll always be in my thoughts," said Fleur as she reached across and held Hermione's hand. "And if you think there is anything I can help you with, please find me. Please don't let pride get in the way of asking me for anything."

Hermione was unsure how to respond to that, but was very aware of Fleur's soft, warm hand holding hers, and didn't find herself in any hurry to pull away. "Okay."

"Bill told me about your parents," said Fleur.

"I thought he might," said Hermione. "Or that Mr. or Mrs. Weasley might mention it."

"Don't be angry with him, it was mentioned at one of the Order meetings anyway, because we were going to post a guard on them, had they stayed in the country."

"I'm not angry with him. I thought it might be mentioned to the Order. I thought I might be in a lot of trouble about it, actually," said Hermione shaking her head sadly, once again feeling ashamed of altering her parents' memories to remove herself from them and basically send them to Australia with different names. She knew she was saving them, but it didn't stop her from feeling like she had violated them.

"In normal circumstances I'm sure it isn't the done thing," said Fleur. "But, these are not normal circumstances. You did it to keep them safe. I can only admire what you did."

"I'm not sure everyone will genuinely see it that way," said a down Hermione, briefly allowing herself to have the fearful thought she had had once or twice since using _obliviate_ on her parents. _Will I ever see them again? Can I even reverse what I did to them?_ She knew she couldn't allow herself to keep thinking about that if she was to stay alert, and once again she tried to mentally move on.

"I had better get back or they'll wonder where I've got to," said Fleur, standing up, seemingly reluctant to let go of Hermione's hand.

Hermione stood up too. "Yeah, I'd better get back there too. I'll be down in a few minutes."

Fleur walked to the door, stopped and turned. "I don't suppose I'll know when you've gone. No! No, I know you won't tell me, and probably can't tell me." She sighed.

"I can't tell you," said Hermione.

Nodding her understanding, Fleur walked back to Hermione and with no warning hugged the girl, then stood back, fully expecting to be shaken off.

Hermione was surprised to find that hugging Fleur was not unpleasant and she felt glad of the support and hugged her back. _On the positive side,_ she thought, _it's definitely one more person wanting to help us and not out to kill us!_

"Take care too, Fleur," said Hermione suddenly. "I hope we meet again soon."

"Forgive me," said Fleur.

"What now?" asked Hermione, with a quirk of a smile again, although she could see the seriousness in Fleur's expression, and wondered just what she would say next.

"For this; for something I said I'd never do again...," said Fleur as she fluidly raised a hand to Hermione's cheek, leaned in a gently pressed her lips to Hermione's.

Predictably Hermione moved her head back fairly fast. "Fleur?! It's your wedding day!? How can you...?"

"How can I kiss the woman that I _know_ I love more than my husband? How can I kiss the person I fear for deep in my heart?" Fleur didn't take her eyes from Hermione, her gaze intense.

"You shouldn't have done that...you..."

"Tell me that you hated it?"

"I... _what_?"

"Tell me you didn't feel something when our lips touched!?" Fleur asked further, as she caressed Hermione's cheek with her hand, her eyes shining with, as yet, unshed tears.

"I...I don't know...I..." Hermione stumbled over her words, but didn't bat the hand away.

"Tell me you don't feel anything...," said Fleur, as she boldly leaned in again and kissed Hermione, daring to capture her lips a little longer.

Hermione couldn't answer, and she certainly couldn't now her lips were taken by Fleur. _What the hell is she doing? She's just married Bill?!_ thought the troubled brunette.

As wrong as it should feel and as much as Hermione wanted and knew she should back away, she didn't. Something held her there, in that moment, and to her utter surprise she responded slightly to the soft, velvet lips that were tenderly kissing her own. Had Hermione drunk veritaserum she would not have been able to hide the fact that she _felt_ 'something'. Despite her knowledge of how wrong it was, and how it wasn't what she was like, she felt a warmth race through her, more than an embarrassed flush could cause; it spread through her chest as if someone was holding her very tightly.

It was Fleur that broke them apart, brushing away a tear that had finally escaped down her cheek, as she looked at the younger woman with a forlorn expression. "I'm sorry, Hermione. It's incredibly wrong of me...something inside me...I couldn't stop myself...I know that sounds stupid...I...I'm so sorry, I..."

"I...I...," Hermione tried to speak, but was floundering.

"You hate me again? And I think maybe this time you have good reason to," said Fleur. "This past year or so, I've tried to not think about you, but it's been very hard. You're always in my thoughts, and my dreams, even when I've tried to ignore you or stay distant...I...there's no excuse for what I just did...I..."

"No...I...I felt something," said Hermione, unaware until then that she too had shed a tear, which she only discovered when she felt a tickling sensation on her cheek and wiped it to find her finger come away damp.

Fleur continued to look despairing and slightly stunned."You felt disgust, I'm sure."

"No," said Hermione in a very quiet voice. "I felt _something_...for you. I've never felt anything like it before."

"Oh," replied Fleur.

Hermione suddenly felt very self-conscious and uncomfortable, but her lips tingled and she couldn't stop looking at Fleur. _It's that bloody veela thing!_ she had thought at that moment, _it's lured me in: that's it! I should leave the room now and forget about it._ "I should go, now."

"Yes, as must I," replied Fleur, not taking her eyes off Hermione, her expressions softer and almost glowing now: she looked so beautiful. Her face revealed exactly what she was feeling: that this might be one of the last times she had alone with Hermione, _ever_. A sadness crept into the blonde woman's face, showing how hard she was finding it to contain that despair. She decided to take one more chance. "I might not see you again and not like this, would you give me another reason to beg forgiveness?"

"I don't understand...what..."

"You're going to leave soon. You know how I feel and I _know_ nothing can happen between us, I know that...but can we exchange some strength to help each other?"

"How can I give you strength?" asked a baffled Hermione.

"Can I kiss you again?"

Hermione knew she should have said 'no' and left the room and gone back to the tent outside, but something inside her was thinking differently and she shocked them both when she nodded her head in consent.

Fleur's eyes filled with tears once more, but she smiled, and caressed Hermione's cheek with her hand as her other hand stroked and smoothed back the brunette's hair, she moved in and connected her lips to the woman she had confessed her love to. Gentle questing kisses, nibbling at Hermione's soft lips. Hermione responded, she couldn't help it.

As wrong as she knew it was, as wrong as she knew it was for herself, Hermione couldn't deny that kissing Fleur was divine. When she felt and heard the blonde woman sigh, it sent a spark through her body and all she could do was wrap an arm around Fleur to stay upright, and she felt she was beyond thinking about anything being wrong anymore. _This isn't going to happen again,_ thought Hermione. _No one will know about it except us. There's no harm in it._ Accepting that thought, Hermione wasn't particularly surprised or worried when she felt Fleur's tongue gently push against her lips and she failed to even surprise _herself_ when she allowed it entry, meeting it with her own tongue.

Then a voice called up the stairs. "Fleur? FLEUR?!" called Bill.

The voice made the two women break apart. "YES?" called Fleur.

"They want us to cut the cake, are you all right up there?"

"I'll be down in a minute!" called Fleur, looking slightly sheepish, but not regretful.

Hermione and Fleur looked at each other, Hermione had her hands resting on Fleur's waist and the latter was still cupping the brunette's cheek.

"I need to go, now," said Fleur. "I'm...I'm..."

"Don't say you're sorry," said Hermione, as she nervously moved a hand to touch Fleur's cheek, gently wiping away another stray tear there. "You've made me feel special and things I've never felt before...that's not to say I'm...well, you know, into girls...but..."

Fleur smiled as she moved to the door. "You've just given me the world. Now, take care."

"Well...you take care too, Fleur," said Hermione. "I'm sure we'll all meet again sometime."

"I hope so," said Fleur. "And now I must go."

"Yes...," Hermione agreed. "...you have a husband who loves you and is waiting for you."

Fleur left the room first and Hermione sat back on her bed for a few minutes before following. _This is so ridiculous of me,_ Hermione had thought, _what have I done? I know I haven't slept with anyone, but kissing someone on their wedding day? That's got to be wrong at the baddest end of 'wrong'?! Maybe I understand what it is about Ron and other men swooning at women with veela blood; something about them alters a person's reason, a person's ability to think properly! Why the hell else would I be kissing Fleur?! I mean to say, it's FLEUR, I don't even like her that much still! AND kiss her, not once, but multiple times! I need to avoid her the rest of tonight, I need to be away from her...away from her radar or whatever it is she's exuding all over me._

Back in the present at Shell Cottage, Hermione was brought out of her thoughts by Fleur returning with a tray, holding a bowl of soup, some bread and a glass of juice. "Thanks, Fleur. I hope I won't be too much more trouble."

Fleur set the tray down on Hermione's lap as the brunette sat up in bed. "It's no trouble."

"It would be better if you hadn't got a house full of people, though. I don't really know how we ended up here, anyway?!"

"Ron instructed Dobby the house-elf to bring the others here before he went back for the second group. Mr. Ollivander is quite ill, and that goblin, Griphook isn't pleasant, but Dean and Luna have been a help around the place today," said Fleur, then she gave a warm smile. "And you, Hermione, will never be a trouble to me."

Hermione nodded her head. _I wonder what she's really thinking about all this? Whatever it is, I'm going to accept her help, graciously, for now,_ she thought. _I have very little other choice, anyway._ She felt incredibly sad when Fleur told her that Dobby had been killed, and knew she would be thankful to the little house-elf for the rest of her life.

In wanting to change the subject, Hermione had noticed that she was in a T'Shirt and pyjama bottoms and not her own. _I suppose she got an eye-full dressing me,_ thought Hermione. "Err...are the clothes I'm wearing yours?" she asked.

"Yes," replied Fleur. "The others said you had clothes in your enchanted bag, but I didn't think it was right to look inside."

 _And stripping me naked_ was _all right?_ thought Hermione sarcastically. "Oh, well you can have these back again later, if my bag is around here somewhere?"

"It's here," said Fleur pointing to the bag on the chest of drawers in the room. As she had spoken with Hermione she had noticed a strange expression on her face as she spoke about her clothes and thought the brunette was wondering about being undressed. In case that was the issue Fleur added, "I...err...I dressed you with my wand, with magic. It was quickest and...and best for you."

"Oh," answered Hermione. _Does she have a link to my thoughts now or something?_ she thought. _No...I can't be angry or irritated with her, she's done nothing but help me._ "Thanks for that."

The soup tasted as good as it smelled, and Hermione felt a lot better once she'd eaten; Fleur had left her to eat in peace, and Hermione suspected it was in case she wanted to be alone with her thoughts on all of it and to take in the news about Dobby, but she was glad of that as she wasn't sure she had the energy to keep talking while she ate.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ever since her wedding, Fleur had had difficulty in forgetting about Hermione. She hadn't been able to stop at least some small thoughts about the girl since she first set eyes on her at Hogwarts. However, the real problem came when she had made the mistake of kissing the girl, after confronting her in the woods that day. She had been in turmoil from the moment she'd learned how much she had hurt Hermione's feelings, and it had caused her to act in a way that brought forth the most vulnerable part of her. To have that honesty and vulnerability nearly thrown back at her had almost made the dangerous and possessive part of her veela blood come forth and claim the girl, especially as kissing her had given her the scent of the girl deep within her. It had so nearly gone from a bad choice to a horrible situation. She wasn't surprised that Hermione had looked fearful, Fleur had disturbed _herself_ that day.

Then a year later, after some time when she could visibly see that Hermione was no longer hostile towards her, the few times they were around each other, and in fact showed no emotion beyond acceptance and seriousness for what the Order were undertaking, she felt slightly happier again. Fleur hadn't left it there, though; her biased instincts wouldn't let her.

The wedding: supposedly the best day of her life, marrying the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, but from the start of the day she was constantly distracted. Hermione looked stunning in a fine dress and matching jewellery and it immediately made her want the young woman again; it was a deep yearning want and the veela inside was jealous and hurt everytime she saw Ron talking with Hermione and how he looked at her. Fleur loved Bill, and he was her best friend too, but when they exchanged their vows and placed the rings on each other's fingers, her tears were not of happiness for herself and Bill, but almost a grief at not having Hermione. She had hated how she had felt, and hated herself for being the way she was.

She had heard and guessed that Hermione, Ron and Harry were planning something, and that would not involve going back to Hogwarts. All she wanted to do was protect Hermione, go with her wherever it was they were going, and help her with whatever it was they were planning. It hurt her to know that she couldn't do that and it made her feel sadness over so many things and that Hermione didn't even reciprocate those feelings and would never even confide in her. As the reception got under way, with the first dance and a lot of other formalities taken care of, Fleur sat back and looked at all the guests, unable to stop searching the room for Hermione. It was then she realized she wasn't in the tent anymore. She felt panic, unsure as to whether Hermione had left already with Ron and Harry; she was relieved, therefore, to see Ron talking with the cantakerous Auntie Muriel and the disguised Harry dancing with Ginny.

Fleur had made an excuse to go back to the house; brides often needed a few minutes break at their weddings. She found Hermione, and they had kissed again, except this time Hermione responded, in the end, and admitted that she felt something for Fleur from their kisses. It made Fleur feel both happiness and grief again, and when the wedding reception was broken up by the onslaught of Death Eaters she had briefly caught sight of Hermione as the girl glanced to her and Disapparated.

In the months that followed Fleur kept hoping to hear news of Hermione; looking for news on Harry, hoping it would give her peace of mind about the woman she loved. There were too many rumours and very little news could be trusted; beyond those vague rumours and a rather grumpy Ron staying with them for a time, and not talking much about what they'd been doing. Fleur had felt livid that Ron had left Hermione and Harry, as it was obviously very dangerous whatever they were doing, but she managed not to show her agitation at him. After Ron left again, Fleur had heard nothing until Dobby the house-elf had arrived on their doorstep with Luna, Dean and Mr. Ollivander. When they mentioned that Dobby was going back for the others, she felt relief sweep through her body.

However, Fleur only felt pain, the moment she saw Hermione again, because of the condition she was in. Her heart ached and her chest felt heavy as if someone had punched her. All a distraught Ron could tell them was that Bellatrix had 'done something to her.' Hermione may not have been obviously bleeding or had a knife stuck into her as poor Dobby had, but she'd been hurt badly, and Fleur hadn't been there to stop it or to rescue her. The Frenchwoman was only slightly relieved that Hermione had been brought to her and Bill; only slightly because she feared other things.

 _"When a veela's loved one has been hurt in anyway the protectiveness within them is fierce."_ Fleur thought as she remembered some of the few things her veela grandmother had told her. " _We like to think we'd stop at nothing to keep that person safe."_ Fleur also remembered being told that although she was a quarter veela no one would know for certain just which traits she would inherit, much the same as the unknown factors in Bill since his wounding by Greyback. _Whatever the case,_ she thought, _she needs my help now, and I will do all I can for her and try to be rational. I couldn't be there to rescue and help her at the time, but I_ can _help and protect her now._

As she closed the bedroom door, after having delivered the soup to Hermione, Fleur let out a silent breath; she had been so worried but to hear that Hermione wanted to eat at all, had made her feel good. Fleur knew too much about curses and torture, and the side effects, to be able to totally relax, and she had heard of some victims starving themselves to death, not through choice, but by being too traumatised to even think of eating. The fact that Hermione had been hurt at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange made everything worse.

"How is she?" Ron whispered to Fleur. He had been waiting on the stairs for her to return from the bedroom.

"She's eating, at least," said Fleur.

"Oh. Well, that's something," said Ron, still obviously disappointed that he hadn't seen Hermione since he had brought her into the house.

"Yes it is," said Fleur, stoically. "I don't think any of you have had much food lately and she was probably tired and weakened before everything happened."

"Yeah, food was a bit scarce at times," said Ron, as he followed Fleur downstairs and into the kitchen. "Sooo...has...has she said anything, about...you know, about what happened?"

"No," answered Fleur. "She'll talk when she's ready, and we shouldn't push her. She may never want to talk about it, and we should respect that too and not make her feel that she has to."

"No..no, I don't mean to do that," said Ron, acting more timidly than Fleur had ever seen him, or any other Weasley, act. "It's just..."

"What?"

"I can't get her screams out of my head," said Ron, his head down staring at his feet. "I couldn't get to her. I couldn't do anything. Harry and I were useless...and she...," he tailed off.

Fleur swallowed hard, feeling a lump in her throat. "You _did_ save her," she forced herself to say, even though her heart felt like it was breaking, to be aware again that she hadn't been there to rescue Hermione herself. "You and Harry got her away from there. You're all safe now."

"Yeah...'spose so," said Ron glumly as he began to walk out of the kitchen. "I just want her to be all right."

"We all do," replied Fleur.

Shortly after, Bill walked into the kitchen and they talked over a few things including Hermione's condition. They both felt like captains of a potentially sinking ship, in which they were holding their fingers over the many holes in the hull.

A little later Fleur went back to the bedroom to collect Hermione's tray and was pleased to see that she'd eaten most of soup and bread. "Was the soup okay?" she asked, if only to find something to say.

"Yes, it was nice," replied Hermione, as she laid back again. As she had eaten her soup something came to her mind. "The sleeping arrangements must be a bit crowded?"

"We managed quite well when you all arrived," replied Fleur. "I'm sure I'll trip over a sleeping bag or two downstairs, but it's all worked out."

"Where are you sleeping tonight? What about Bill?" asked a concerned Hermione. "I'm guessing this is your room?"

"Yes it's mine and Bill's room. Bill said he's fine sleeping with the others downstairs."

"I can't take your room!" said Hermione, feeling guilty. "It's not right. I ought to stop being..."

"No!" said Fleur firmly. "You are staying in here. Bill insists as well."

"It makes me feel a bit...well, stupid."

"Well, we all know that you are _not_ stupid, Hermione," said Fleur, giving a small smile. It was the one thing she hoped she would see from Hermione eventually, a smile of any strength or inclination. "I'll be in the room in the chair, because I don't think you should spend the night alone. I've been in and out most of the day to check on you." She pointed to a comfortable old armchair in the corner of the room, which had some laundered clothes resting on it. Fleur wondered for a moment if Hermione would protest about her presence or make an excuse that meant the same thing; she wouldn't have totally blamed her if she had been uncomfortable. "If you don't want me here, I can move myself to outside the door if you prefer?"

Hermione considered what Fleur had said. _The woman has given up her bed and her room, as well as being apart from her husband. I can see nothing but kindness in her offer,_ she thought. _And as stupid as I feel, I'm glad someone will be near me._ "I won't banish you to the landing," said Hermione. "I'll be fine with you in here. Thank you."

Not being able to completely switch her mind off, Hermione found her beaded bag, which she assumed had been retrieved by Ron or Harry, and she found up a couple of books, trying to stumble upon an old important object that Voldemort may have made into a horcrux. Fleur came up with some hot chocolate and Hermione soon felt drowsy. She stumbled her way to the bathroom, not wanting to be lazy and Apparate there any more, but needing Fleur's support from the bed to the door and back again; and then she settled into bed. Fleur herself said she was tired and made herself comfortable in the chair, using a footstool to stretch out her legs.

"Goodnight, Hermione," said Fleur softly.

"Night."

The long time Hermione had been asleep before, she didn't remember any dreams or nightmares and was thankful for that and was hopeful that she wouldn't experience any. Despite all the horrors and stressful situations she had been in since attending Hogwarts, she had had very few bad dreams about anything and she had put that down to having a rational mind and realizing that the waking world could be scarier than dreams, so dreams were only pointless reminders of the most negative things that could happen. The only dreams she was affected by, involved Ron, and some of those made her blush to even think about too much.

However, she hadn't been asleep long when she began to experience flashes of images in her mind; from the near disaster in Godric's Hollow when Voldemort had been so close to capturing them, to being taken to Malfoy Manor with the same result. It didn't seem to bother her and she was prepared to accept them as she did with any other less than pleasant memory. Nevertheless, every time a memory of Malfoy Manor came forth in her mind, she felt cold and appeared to wake up from it. She had remained on her side facing the outside of the bed so she could see where the window was in the room and feel less claustrophic; Fleur had left a lamp on low so it wasn't completely dark in the room.

Each time Hermione awoke, tense and unsure of her surroundings again she knew she must have called out or gasped because within seconds Fleur came to her, and although saying little more than reassurance that they were at Shell Cottage, the blonde woman made sure that Hermione knew she wasn't alone and wasn't still in the presence of Bellatrix.

As Fleur watched over the sleeping Hermione that first night, she felt even more drawn to the brunette. The Frenchwoman found herself shaking her head at how the situation had arrived; how Bill was having to sleep downstairs with Ron, Harry, Dean and Luna, and Fleur was in here, with Hermione in her bed. _This is something I never thought would happen,_ she thought. _It's not perhaps what I had in mind, but Hermione Granger is in my bed!_

Coughing and gasping for a little breath Hermione gave a strangled cry, then. "No! Please no!" Hermione called out distressed, not yet fully awake, followed by a heartbreaking, "Mum? Mum?!"

Fleur no longer smiled or thought about any of the lighter side of the current situation, it was all she could do not to cry at the emotions of thinking about Hermione's mother being far away and not even aware she had a daughter anymore. She had often read that when people became stressed, or worse, were dying, that it was incredibly common how many called for their mother: the person in most people's lives who always made the pain and fear go away. She straight away composed herself and went to the brunette and reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder. "You're still at Shell Cottage, Hermione," she said clearly. "No one can hurt you here. No one will find you."

Initially Hermione flinched again and tried to wriggle away from the hand that rested upon her until she woke up properly. Fleur removed her hand immediately, not knowing whether it was the stress Hermione was reacting to or whether there was also a deep awkwardness about being alone with her again. _If I'd never kissed her on my wedding day, perhaps there wouldn't be this added unknown factor,_ thought Fleur, glumly.

"Sorry," said Fleur, softly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, but I thought by placing my hand on you that you would feel safer."

The brunette's body seemed to relax again, but she kept shivering a little. "No...it's okay," said Hermione, as she looked towards the window and through a little gap in the curtains she could make out a quarter moon in the sky with a few stars. "I keep getting confused...thinking I'm back there and that Bellatrix has hold of me and even though I'm curled up away from her...I...I keep fearing that she's going to pin me to the floor again or...or..."

"Or?" asked Fleur, gently, hoping that Hermione would talk about things to help the recovery process, but she was prepared for an answer of silence.

"Or...she...she trapped me up against a wall...and...then..." Hermione took several unsteady deep breaths, as she remembered the experience, her eyes full of tears. "She made me feel things: suggestions really, of pain and other things, but I felt every one."

Fleur sat on the edge of the bed. "I can't imagine what any of it was like," she said as she moved her hand to cover Hermione's, which was just out of the bed covers; she considered the comfort might be refused, but her hand wasn't removed.

"Some of the things were weird," said Hermione. "I don't know what it was, but when she said...when she said my feet were on fire, I felt them burn. When she described pushing a dagger into my chest, I felt that too. I could feel the blood rising up my throat and gagged, certain she had stabbed me and I was coughing up my last breath with the blood." She heaved a huge sigh, and shivered again. "I prepared myself for what I thought things would be like, but I was...I was absolutely useless! I didn't tell her a thing, maybe because there was nothing to tell, but I took the punishment and couldn't do a thing. It seems I'm not as good under pressure as I thought I was."

"You _are_ good under pressure. I don't know a witch or wizard who could have done anything else under those circumstances. You were being held by magic, and being tortured by magic. There is nothing more you could have done."

"Hmm," Hermione uttered in almost a groan. "I know it was suggestions, but I can still feel the soles of my feet burning as if I've walked through glowing embers barefoot. It doesn't make any sense."

"Do you want me to take a look?" asked Fleur. "Perhaps you have some actual injury there?"

Hermione nodded, and slowly moved and pulled back the covers, as Fleur increased the light slightly and moved to the bottom of the bed .

"I hate burns," said Fleur, as she gently held one of Hermione's feet to inspect the sole. "Hmm...the soles of your feet look slightly red, and you have a blister or two. A little bit of salve should help that." She went to a chest of drawers in the room and brought out a bottle of ointment and proceeded to rub a little into Hermione's feet. "I don't know if you have actual burns as well, it's hard to tell, but it's nothing too bad, this salve should soothe and heal it in a couple of days."

"It could be blisters from all the running we seemed to have to do a lot of," said Hermione. "Maybe the suggestions of burns there, made my sore feet worse in some way."

"It's possible," replied Fleur. "Do you hurt anywhere else? I haven't asked before, but if you have any injuries, please let me know and I can do something about it."

"I ache all over, but I think it's only bruises. Er...you said you hate burns?" asked Hermione, trying to think of something else, other than what happened to her and the tingling soreness of her feet and her aching body.

"I think everyone hates getting those little burns from a candle or from the oven," said Fleur as she put the covers back over Hermione, recognizing that Hermione didn't want to talk further on the subject of her ordeal. "But not liking burns is because I actually have a fear of fire."

"Really?"

"Yes, which sounds silly for a witch, when we're surrounded by candles and open fires and frequently seem to set fire to things. I suppose what I really mean is: I have a fear of being trapped and burned by fire."

"Were you ever in a fire, when you were younger, then?" asked an interested Hermione.

"I know what you're thinking," replied Fleur. "That I was in a fire as a child or something? No, I've thankfully never had a bad experience of that, but I've always had this fear of it. I hated the dragons at the Triwizard Tournament. There was some fire in the Triwizard maze, so I went in an opposite direction, which did me no good at all. I think it's something like people not liking spiders for no apparent reason, with me it's the thought of fire."

"Well...," considered Hermione. "I suppose none of us like the thought of being in a fire. I...I...certainly hated being made to feel my feet were burning. I don't know how it was done, but it felt so real."

"I know I can never take away the bad memories or feelings, but I hope I can help you," said Fleur.

"You _are_ helping," said Hermione, straight away. "Whatever our previous history, I know you're on our side, completely. I know you're not going to hurt any of us and that we can trust you."

"You _can_ trust me, Hermione," said Fleur, her heart nearly leaping with joy to hear those words, as she sat back on the edge of the bed. "You can trust me with anything. I want you to know, that anything you tell me here, anything that happens here, will remain here. I won't judge you, whatever you say or do. I've put a silencing charm on the room since you arrived. You need to be free to do or say what you need to. Free to scream or yell if you want to..."

"Free to nearly vomit over you...," mumbled a slightly embarrassed Hermione, as she settled back, curling up a little, still shivering as if cold.

"You didn't nearly vomit over me, I had that possibility covered," said Fleur, resting her hand on Hermione's shoulder again and giving it a little squeeze. "Besides you wouldn't be the first person to do that if you had turned my shirt a different colour. At least with magic it's dealt with quickly."

Hermione didn't smile, but she nodded her head against the pillow, accepting what she was told. "I wish I could stop shivering. It's not like I'm even that cold!"

"It's a normal reaction," said Fleur. "Not just to the type of shocking experience you've had, but normal as one of the reactions of having been cursed with the _Cruciatus_ curse, and any of the other negative curses you might have received."

Hermione gave another little shiver like an intermittent convulsion, and still lying on her side she tried to curl up tighter, but she continued to shiver. Fleur didn't like to see it; in this instance it didn't matter that it was Hermione particularly, if she had seen anyone having side effects like these she would have been emotionally torn with feeling for them. The fact it _was_ Hermione only strengthened her need to help.

"You might think bad of me for suggesting this, but I promise you it is only your health I'm concerned with right now. It might be a help if I slept next to you, to feel the warmth of another so your body doesn't feel in so much shock and knows it's definitely not cold and cannot be attacked," Fleur suggested, carefully.

Hermione didn't answer, as she thought about it, her body continuing to almost make her teeth chatter. _I'm not sure I care even if she is thinking of something else,_ she thought. _I don't think she's sick enough to try anything while I'm like this. She's only trying to help, and I can't keep shivering like some frostbitten Arctic explorer. She seems to know what she's doing about all of this, I really couldn't care less if part of her is lusting for me._

Fleur was expecting a flat refusal on several levels; from Hermione not wanting to be close to her because of what had happened between them and also the young woman being stubborn and obstinate about handling everything herself. She was therefore surprised when Hermione gave a little nod of her head.

"I'll try anything to stop this bloody shivering," said Hermione as she was about to move, before Fleur held up a hand to stop her.

"Stay in the position you're in, if you're comfortable," said Fleur.

The Frenchwoman got into the bed next to Hermione and, moved up behind the younger women, wrapping the quilt around them both, properly, and therefore having an arm firmly, but not tightly, around the brunette. Fleur had to remind herself not to actually spoon Hermione and only be a friendly support. She could feel the tremors of the young woman as she shivered, and for a moment or two it seemed to get worse, which she suspected might have been from awkwardness, before it tapered off again. The veela within Fleur was positively purring, but she shut off that part of herself sternly.

"Do you feel comfortable?" asked Fleur, already feeling Hermione's shivering lessen.

"Yes," said Hermione. She had to admit as bizarre as her current position was, she felt safer as well as warmer. She could definitely feel the warmth of Fleur against her back and after the first few uncomfortable moments of getting used to having Fleur literally hugging her as they lay there, she felt calmer.

Fleur loved feeling this close to the woman that touched her very heart and soul, but the protective part of her was in control and all she wanted to do was take away Hermione's pain and heal her in whatever way she could. She hadn't shut off the veela part of her before she had noticed how good the younger girl felt against her, but lust was at the back of a long list of thoughts. Now, she was thinking of a way to relax Hermione to find sleep again.

"Hermione, think of a green field, and..."

"Why?"

"I wanted to try some relaxation methods with you, so you can get back to sleep."

"I doubt it will work," said Hermione. "That kind of thing tends not to, with me."

"There's no harm in trying, is there?" asked Fleur.

"No, I'll give it a try." Hermione sighed, her body still trembling.

"It's something my Grandmother taught me as a child when I couldn't relax and find sleep, or any time I needed to calm myself. Close your eyes, and think of a green field, full of long tall grass. The sky is blue with a few white clouds and the sun is shining; you can feel the pleasant warmth of it on your face. You walk through the field, letting your hands brush the heads of the long grasses, and scattering fluffy dandelion seeds in all directions; you find a place to sit down in the long grass..." Fleur continued, describing the field and the day and had to stop herself chuckling, when, within a few minutes she felt Hermione stop shivering and noticed the slow, relaxed breaths of sleep. She hoped that her own dreams would behave, as her nose was very close to that wonderful wavy brown hair, the scent of the woman she loved, treasured with each inhalation. It would have been so easy to place a kiss on Hermione's neck, her ear, or bury her nose in that long hair, but she restrained herself.

Then Fleur felt suddenly very serious as she held the young woman. _Please let sleep help her to heal more,_ she thought. _I would give anything to make her well, anything to take away her pain._ At that moment she wanted to break down and weep for Hermione, but yet again she controlled herself and only allowed a solitary tear to slide down her cheek onto the pillow below. She experienced a resonant stabbing ache in her chest, so strongly it was all she could do not to audibly groan; deep within herself she held both fear and hope for the woman she was lying next to, hoping her protective arm around her, would help to guard Hermione against the torment she had been enduring, if only for a few hours.


	3. Madness

3: Madness

A few hours later, morning had arrived and Hermione awoke to find that during the night she had rolled over and was resting her head against Fleur's shoulder, nearly resting her head _on_ it, as the older woman lay on her back. Suddenly realizing where she was, and with whom, Hermione moved her head back with a start and looked up and saw that Fleur was awake and looking at her; when their eyes met, Fleur broke into a warm smile.

"What?" said Hermione. "Oh crap, I didn't drool on you, did I?"

Fleur gave a little laugh. "No, but even if you had..."

"Urgh, don't tell me, I wouldn't have been the first person to drool on you, am I right?"

"Well, that's true," said Fleur. "I _was_ going to to say, that it didn't matter if you had."

"So who are all these people who keep throwing up and drooling all over you, then?" said Hermione, more irritated than feeling humourous, as she slowly moved to a sitting position.

"Err, my sister has been sick all over me, when she was ill. Bill has too...but that was because he'd had too much beer. Oh and both of those people have also drooled on me," said Fleur, chuckling as she moved to sit up.

"Oh," said Hermione, unsure how to respond to the answers, because she didn't know Fleur was going to answer the question properly like that.

"Anyway, how are you feeling, now you're awake?"

"I'm not shivering at the moment, so that's positive," replied Hermione. "Believe it or not, I feel a little hungry."

Fleur moved and swung her legs out of the bed. "I'll bring you some breakfast."

"No, I'm going to get up and go downstairs for it," said Hermione, sternly, as she swung her own legs out of bed, and picked up her beaded bag. "I'm going to the loo, then I'll go down with you."

"I'm not going to ask 'are you sure?'," said Fleur. "I know it's pointless to say it. See how you feel when you get back from the bathroom."

Hermione stumbled her way to the bathroom on legs that seemed to have forgotten how to walk in a straight line; she refused Fleur's help, to try and get there under her own efforts. After relieving herself she washed her face and hands and searched in her beaded bag for her toothbrush. After only a few seconds she felt too tired to be standing there brushing, and performed a quick wordless brushing charm, one she'd learned to perfect when travelling with Harry and Ron; her dentist parents would have been horrified, she had no doubt.

 _My parents,_ Hermione thought, _I hope they're safe._ She felt tears well up and angrily wiped her eyes. The anger and frustration at herself seemed to exhaust her beyond measure and the last thing she remembered was looking at her extremely pale reflection in the mirror, before hearing a thumping sound, and something winding her, hitting her in the ribs.

Opening her eyes to see only a fuzzy blur, Hermione immediately thought she was back at Malfoy Manor. All she could muster was a whimpering mumble, but she felt tears down her cheeks at the horrible thought that Shell Cottage had been a dream and she'd never left Bellatrix. Before she could think anything else or clear her blurring vision she felt herself being lifted, or at least moving upwards, and before she could try to protest or prepare herself for the pain to follow a voice spoke.

"You're going to be fine, Hermione," said Fleur softly.

Fleur had heard a lumping sound from the bathroom and when Hermione didn't answer the door, Fleur went in to find the brunette collapsed on the floor. The Frenchwoman checked to make sure Hermione hadn't hit her head when she had fallen, and from the deathly pale colour of the younger woman's face, she guessed Hermione had fainted. As the brunette came round she had tensed up, and Fleur guessed why, as Hermione was crying silent tears.

Back in the bed, Hermione opened her eyes, and as her colour and blood pressure rose, so did her awareness. "What...? Why did...?"

"I think you fainted," said Fleur, pouring out a glass of water and getting Hermione to drink some of it.

"Fainted?" Hermione said. "I don't faint. I..."

"It's nothing serious." Fleur tried to reassure the younger woman. "You're probably still weak after everything. Try not to worry."

"Fainting? Me? Oh wonderful, I'll add it to my list of skills!" said a sarcastic Hermione, annoyed.

"Don't be angry with yourself," said Fleur. "Now, I'll bring you some breakfast. You'll feel better with some food inside you."

"A breakfast I was supposed to be going _downstairs_ for?!"

"There's always tomorrow," said Fleur. When she was happy that Hermione was recovering from her faint she went downstairs to get the girl some breakfast.

Hermione was surprised that she slept a lot of the day; she looked at some of her books, but seemed to begin yawning quite quickly and having to take naps. The naps were mostly undisturbed and only once did Fleur come to her and sit with her, which she thought was eerily incredible: how Fleur always seemed to be there when she needed someone. There was still some shaking and still some tears, but the brunette already assumed it was something she was going to have to work through. She _hoped_ it could be worked through and pushed away thoughts of the Longbottoms' situation again, trying hard not to think of any similarities between them.

After a couple of meals inside her, Hermione did indeed feel better and felt much stronger, physically. By the end of the day, her trips to the bathroom had made her legs become more sturdy and when she felt what she thought was a hint of a faint, she sat down straight away and took deep breaths.

The night, unfortunately, had been much like the previous one where Hermione had trouble transitioning from her dreaming world to the waking one. Fleur came to her every time she was disturbed and once again after suffering with shivers that were nearly convulsions, the blonde woman slept next to her, holding her and doing all she could to smoothe away the fear and tension. Fleur had talked her through her idyllic summer dream world with the long grasses again, and once more it had worked in helping Hermione to drop off into a more peaceful sleep.

The following morning felt very like the one before, but Hermione was absolutely determined to get up and out of the room.

"I'll get your breakfast," said Fleur, standing up.

"No," said Hermione. "I'll come down for it. I'd like to see the others."

"If you're sure?"

"Very. I've hidden away up here too long. And I feel much stronger today."

"I wouldn't call it hiding," said Fleur. "You needed some time, and might still need some time to yourself."

"The least I can do is make an appearance, and stop them worrying, it's been a couple of days since I saw them," said Hermione.

"They have been very worried about you, but I didn't want you to have visitors until you were ready. I didn't mean to keep your friends from you."

"You didn't," said Hermione. "I think you did the right thing. Harry has enough to think about without seeing me in that state."

"Do you need to borrow any clothes?" asked Fleur, admiring the inner strength of the younger woman.

"No, as long as I have my beaded bag, I'll have everything."

"Don't rush, there's no hurry," said Fleur.

Hermione opened her beaded bag pulled out some clothes and with a flick of a wand was changed into them. Fleur had been watching, wondering if Hermione was going to change the slow way, not because she was hoping to see some bare skin, but because she genuinely wondered if she needed any help. With a flick of her own wand, she changed into her clothes for the day and left the room.

It made Hermione think for a few moments; she realized that a confused part of her was a little disappointed that Fleur hadn't got dressed, the slow way, in front of her. _Why would I ever want to see that?_ she thought. _Unless I have some kind of perverted curiosity in wondering if people with veela blood have more than just a beautiful face and persona. She must have done the same thing yesterday, because she was clothed when I woke up after that fainting. Urgh, first things first, I need to see Harry and Ron._

Taking a very deep calming breath, before leaving the bedroom, Hermione made her way downstairs. She was aware that everyone had looked at her, with Ron and Harry unable to completely hide their surprise at her appearance. After a rather awkward silence it was finally broken by the one person they could all count on not to be perturbed by any situation.

"Hi, Hermione. It's good to see you again," said Luna. "Dean and Ron said you'd gone into hibernation, but I told them that humans can't do that. Nargles have been known to hibernate, but humans don't, officially."

"No, I'm not planning to hibernate," said Hermione, as she fixed Ron with a look. Dean suddenly found he'd finished breakfast and had an urgent need to be outside to help Bill with something.

"I didn't mean, _hibernate_ hibernate," said Ron. "I...err...I meant it was like you'd...gone into hibernation because we haven't seen you for days."

"It's only been a _couple_ of days," said Hermione, as she helped herself to some cornflakes.

"So, are you..."

"Ron," said Luna, in a strange tone. "Remember what we were told...about that thing...the thing that..."

"I wasn't going to..."

"What they're trying to say," said Harry. "Is..."

"I'm all right," said Hermione, guessing what it was they were trying to skirt around. "I want to thank you for getting us all away from... _there._ I just needed some rest. I'm fine! If we can have another day or so I'm sure I'll be back to normal." _I bet Fleur told them not to ask me things,_ she thought, wanting to roll her eyes, but at the same time thankful.

Once the awkwardness of Hermione's appearance had gradually disappeared, they spoke of things in a fairly ordinary way. Hermione was immediately interested in any news from the outside world that had filtered through, after learning that most nights the radio was in use by the Order and while she had been unwell upstairs, the others had been listening to it at night. As always the radio broadcast changed location and code words most nights and everything was said in a cryptic way. The previous night Ron said that his brothers Fred and George were hosting the show again and they were sure that their guest was Kingsley Shacklebolt. There were no huge announcements other than another two half-blood wizards who had gone missing and that something had upset some of the Death Eaters. They all knew what that might be: having Harry Potter in their grasp and then losing him before their Dark Lord arrived.

After breakfast, Hermione spent the rest of the morning sorting through some of the things in her enchanted beaded bag and made sure Harry and Ron had some more of their clothes back to use, as well as checking on the status of items they might need, including a batch of polyjuice poition they always had brewing which needed checking. Hermione was determined to not be treated differently to the others that day; she was going to have a normal day, even if she yawned a bit more than anyone else did.

Hermione, Ron and Harry managed to find a place to themselves and talk about possible future plans. They used a _Muffliato_ charm to hide their conversations; they had warned the others that they would sometimes need to talk and that it was safer that no one heard it: not because they didn't trust the others, but because it was safer for everyone not to know everything. No one objected, with the current seriousness in the magical world they all seemed to undertstand the various connotations to it, however curious they might be. Luna and Dean knew that they wouldn't and couldn't be told anything much, and they could always trust Luna, in particular, to understand things better than most; both of them helped BIll and Fleur with odd jobs around the cottage and outside. Luna spent a lot of time with Mr. Ollivander, having become friends as captives of the Malfoys, and unlike a lot of people, she wasn't nervous of the man, or worried about the odd way he spoke about things.

"The thing is," said Ron, as they sat in the corner of the sitting room in the afternoon. "We still don't know what our next step is. Do we have a definite destination, for a definite hor...ovaltine?" He'd caught himself just in time before he said 'horcrux'.

The word 'horcrux' was only known among certain sectors of the magical world, but the three of them didn't want to give anything away to anyone, so they came up with a word to use around Shell Cottage. It was Harry's idea, using the drink which was one of his Uncle Vernon's favourite bedtime beverages and one he had been forced to make him on numerous occasions. It fitted the criteria perfectly: a word for something they had to do, but didn't like doing: and he had never liked doing _anything_ for his uncle. Although they had cast a _Muffliato_ charm for privacy, the word 'ovaltine' looked very different when lip-read to 'horcrux'.

"I just don't know," said Harry. "We know there are definitely more. I've considered that, now some have been destroyed, that You Know Who will keep the other things close to him."

"Hmm," uttered Hermione, in thought. "That raises the question of whether we try searching vaguely for an ovaltine, or we try to monitor You Know Who's movements, because where he is, that's where another one might be?"

"We need to think about things from all angles," said Harry. "Maybe something will just feel right and we'll know."

"Something will _feel_ right?" questioned Ron. "That sounds a bit, well, wishy-washy?!"

"Have you got a better idea?" said Harry, only mildly irritated.

"No," said Ron, flatly. "I...I know it's difficult. I just hate all this vague not knowing stuff."

"You're not the only one," said Hermione. "But, we can only deal with the things we know and have."

Once or twice during that day, Hermione felt what she thought was a shiver coming on, quickly followed by a feverish feeling that made beads of sweat form on her forehead, which she casually wiped away; she mostly fought off the sensations and tried not to show anything about the way her body was feeling. She had felt very tired again, and was thankful when dinner had arrived to break the deep concentration. So far, Harry and Ron hadn't asked her anything else about how she felt and they hadn't touched on the events at Malfoy Manor, and Hermione suspected that was Fleur's doing as well. When dinner was finished, Hermione offered to help wash up the dinner things, once she knew it was Fleur's turn to wash-up; the actual process of washing up was a combination of magical and muggle methods.

When they were alone, as Hermione began to put plates and bowls back into the cupboards, she asked, "You've told them not to ask me anything, haven't you?"

Fleur had the grace to look guilty. "I only thought, that maybe you didn't want to be asked how you were feeling all the time."

"True, it would get very annoying, but you didn't have to do that. Apart from feeling tired, I'm fine, really I am," said Hermione, sounding cheerful. "Once I was back talking with the others, I've felt back up to speed."

"I'm only trying to make things easier for you, Hermione."

"I know you are, and I appreciate it, but I'll be okay," said Hermione, as Bill walked in and offered to finish up for her. She guessed he really wanted to talk to Fleur about some things and so she left the kitchen to them.

All through dinner, Harry had been fairly quiet and looked deep in thought; when Hermione went back to the sitting room Luna had asked her if she wanted to play a board game with her and Dean and before she could answer, Harry called her over to the corner of the room where Ron was too.

"Sorry, Luna, it looks like those two want to talk to me, maybe tomorrow."

"No problem," replied Luna, then she smiled. "I believe there's always a tomorrow."

"I hope so," said Hermione, admiring Luna's spirit.

Hermione moved an armchair round to talk to Ron and Harry, as one of them cast a _Muffliato_ charm. "Have we decided something, then?"

"I want to talk to both Griphook and Ollivander," said Harry. "Bill and Fleur say Ollivander is still weak and weary, but he should be okay to talk to. I want to know what _he_ knows about the Elder Wand, because I'm sure he's heard something about it over the years. I also want him to confirm whose wands we took. I'm pretty sure we have Bellatrix's wand," said Harry.

"That might be useful," said Ron. "We don't know how yet, but at the least the old nutter will have to use a different wand if she wants to fight anyone."

When Harry, and then Ron, spoke about Bellatrix, Hermione unexpectedly felt a burning pain go through her spine and disappear, which made her jump in her seat and expel a breath in almost a groan, she felt like she was about to shiver, but she managed to control it and didn't allow it to show, putting a hand to her mouth as if she had been trying to stifle a yawn and nothing more.

"You okay, Hermione?" asked Harry, noticing the movement and that Hermione was looking very pale.

"Yes...err...only a yawn and then a cold shiver...it made me jump," said Hermione, choosing to opt for the truth in a casual way, and desperate to move the attention from herself she continued, "So...so he should be able to identify the wands, perhaps we could do that in the next couple of days?"

"If he agrees to talk with us," said Harry. "At least it will feel like we're doing something."

"What do we need to talk with Griphook about?" Hermione asked, having had no real contact with the goblin and wondering what Harry would want to ask him.

"I want to ask him about Godric Gryffindor's sword," said Harry. "He obviously knows something about it, more than just being able to tell that's it's genuine. And more importantly I think he can help us with our ovaltine search."

"Bloody hell, you don't want him travelling with us, do you?" asked Ron. "Miserable little git! Bill always says you can't trust them to tell you what colour the sky is!"

"That might be true, but as Hermione said, we can only work with what we know and have," said Harry, tiredly. "I want to know why Bellatrix went crazy when she saw the sword and why she was asking if we'd been in her vault."

"Oh," said Hermione. "You think she has an ovaltine in her vault?!"

"It's possible," said Harry. "Griphook might know more about it. I _know_ we have to be careful and I'll make sure to word things carefully too. All I _do_ know, from what we heard and witnessed, was that Bellatrix kept screeching about her vault and asking where we got the sword; that much I understood. And it was like she half expected to see something else."

"She might...," Hermione began, but couldn't finish her sentence as she had a flash of an image of Bellatrix pushing her face into her own and yelling at her. She felt a flush spread through her and a burning sensation in the pit of her stomach, and then she felt the bile rise in her throat. She ran from the room, stunning Harry and Ron, and making Dean and Luna turn their heads in surprise, wondering what had dashed past them.

Hermione didn't care who saw her or whom she had to push out of her way as she reached the downstairs bathroom, relieved it was vacant and slammed the door behind her, as she only made it in time to empty her stomach contents into the toilet. She closed the lid of the toilet and flushed it, before sitting on it; she put her head in her hands, aware that she was shaking slightly, and sweating. _Maybe I've caught a virus,_ she thought. _I've not exactly been living healthy lately, it must be easy for someone like me to pick up a bug._

After a couple of minutes there was a knock on the door. "Hermione?" called the voice of Fleur. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I'll be out in a second," said Hermione. Part of her wanted to be left alone and to stop having Fleur shadowing her every movement, and that stopped her from saying more, because she didn't want Fleur fussing over her even more.

All day Fleur had left Hermione, Ron and Harry to talk, but the brunette had been aware that Fleur was always within reach. The more gracious part of Hermione was thankful for someone caring enough to look out for her, but it also felt a little suffocating. She brought out her beaded bag, which she was becoming accustomed to having in her pocket again that day, and retrieved a bottle of mouthwash from the bag and used it to feel fresh again. Sighing and standing up, Hermione opened the bathroom door and wasn't completely surprised to find Fleur standing there waiting for her.

"I think I might have a bit of a virus," said Hermione, calmly, before adding, "Nothing major, I'll live. I'm probably not used to good food in such quantities either."

As Hermione took another step forward she stumbled and would have fallen flat on her face had Fleur not caught her. "I've got you," the Frenchwoman said.

"I'm fine!" Hermione tried to shrug it off, not altogether hiding another shiver. She suddenly felt very slow and her limbs felt much heavier than they had done only minutes before.

"No, you're not," said Fleur, then she dropped her voice to nearly a whisper. "Please don't lie to me, Hermione. You don't have to hide anything from me."

"Hide from you? What if I want to hide from myself?" Hermione asked, in a slurred voice, now.

"I think we need to get you to bed," said Fleur, knowing that Hermione was showing all the signs of exhaustion and another side effect from her treatment at the hands of Bellatrix.

"You're obsessed with getting me into your bed!" said Hermione, nearly acting like a drunk.

At this moment Harry and Ron, with Bill and Luna in tow, appeared in the hallway. "I think she needs some rest," Fleur told them. She didn't need to say much more, because all four of them could see that their friend was very far from being well.

"Do you need any help?" asked Luna, worried.

"No, we'll be okay," said Fleur.

"If you think of anything, just ask," said Luna, turning to go back to the sitting room.

Hermione was still slumped against Fleur, the blonde woman holding her upright, but the brunette's skin was so pale it was almost grey. She looked just like someone battling a bad dose of influenza. The three men nodded that they understood and went back to the sitting room as well, with Ron reluctantly following the other two, wanting to be more help to Hermione than he was.

"Okay, Hermione. I'm going to Apparate us to the bedroom," said Fleur, as she transported them there.

"It's not my type," said Hermione, as they arrived in the bedroom.

"What's not your type?" asked a puzzled Fleur, as she guided Hermione to sit on the bed.

"The bed," said Hermione. "It's higher than mine and wider. Not my type at all!"

Fleur was only a little amused at Hermione's seemingly drunken behaviour; she couldn't fully be entertained because she was so concerned about what Hermione was going through. Fleur found up the sleepwear Hermione had slept in the night before, and performed a quick cleaning spell on them, rather than look for something else for her to wear. She was about to flick her wand to change Hermione into the clothes, when she was stopped.

"No!" said Hermione. "Not the wand!"

"Why?"

"I don't know," said Hermione, who then shivered and looked very confused. "I...I don't like people pointing...wands at me."

"It's the fastest way to get you changed, then you can be comfortable in bed," said Fleur kindly. "I used it before. You did it yourself this morning."

"I did? I...did...didn't I?" said Hermione, as she sat on the edge of the bed, looking utterly perplexed and with all the drunk-like behaviour gone again. She looked around the room as if she hadn't seen it before. "What am I doing here?"

Fleur went and sat next to her. "You were sick, remember? I think you need some more sleep, you've had a long day talking with Harry and Ron."

Hermione was thinking about why she had been sick. The thing was, she didn't really feel ill anymore, not in a viral sense; it made her wonder why she had suddenly felt so ill again downstairs. "I don't think I have a virus," she said.

"I _know_ you don't," said Fleur. "I think you're still suffering from what happened to you."

"Ron and Harry were talking...we were talking about wands," said Hermione, then things became clear to her. "We spoke about the fact we think we have...," she paused, finding herself nearly unable to say the name. Instead she felt another stab of pain in her back and was unable to hide it, as she groaned. "Her. It was _her!_ And what she was yelling at me..."

Another vision of the fierce black-haired witch came to Hermione and it felt like the mad woman was there in the room with her. Retreating back into the nearly animal-like cowering behaviour she had displayed the first night she had arrived at Shell Cottage, Hermione moved up the bed and curled up as she shivered; she pulled the collar of her shirt up, almost covering her face.

"No, no more," Hermione said, in a voice hardly above a whisper. "No more. I've had enough...I don't want this anymore. I want it to end...I want it all gone. I want it...gone...I want... _her_ gone...I...want..I...if she doesn't go, then I will...I want to go...I want it to end..."

"It's okay, Hermione," said Fleur soothingly, lost for better words and struggling to hold herself together. She reached out and rested her hand on Hermione's shoulder.

Fleur had suspected many things about what Hermione had gone through and with this show of severe mental exhaustion she somehow knew about it all: the younger woman had been subjected to months of stress which had ended in torture with Bellatrix, and she had probably had the witch's wand pointed at her at lot. In Hermione's mind, it had probably felt like the end to her life, and Harry's and Ron's too, and it had nearly broken her and she was close to breaking now. She had been unable to fight back as Bellatrix inflicted on her whatever she liked, and it had left her with fear: fear of it happening again and not getting away. The trigger that evening had been the Death Eater woman's name.

Hermione's body shivered a little more and then Fleur saw that the brunette was crying. It made Fleur want to cry along with her. She settled more on the bed and gently moved Hermione towards her and enveloped her in her arms, cradling her.

"You're going to be all right," said Fleur, as she held Hermione; she was disturbed to admit that she was trying to reassure herself as well as the person in her arms. "You're an amazing young woman. You're so strong. I'm going to help you. You're not alone..." Fleur then started to talk about the green field in the sun, hoping it had the same effect as before, to take Hermione away to a quieter place where nothing could harm her.

There was silence for a time, except for Hermione's hitched breaths, but gradually her breathing was easier as she fell into sleep, and Fleur quickly flicked her wand and had them both in nightwear, and under the quilt. Hermione stirred slightly, but didn't seem to be aware of the change as she slipped back into sleep, her head resting on Fleur. The blonde woman settled back and continued to hold the younger girl, relieved that Hermione was able to get some rest again.

XXXXXXXXXX

During the night Hermione awoke and discovered that she was close up to Fleur and resting on her. A small lamp had been left on low, as usual, so it wasn't completely dark. Fleur was asleep, and Hermione didn't make another movement and watched her for a few minutes. She found herself staring at the blonde woman's perfect cheekbones and jawline, and her golden skin, looking more golden under the light of the lamp.

 _It's not just the veela enchantment thing,_ thought Hermione. _She is genuinely beautiful. Although, it doesn't hurt to have the veela thing, I'm sure._ She continued to look at Fleur, and how her steady breaths of sleep made her chest rise and fall effortlessly. _Well, that's a stupid observation,_ she thought. _Most people breathe effortlessly when they sleep! That stupid observation aside, what on earth did she see in me? I understand why she went for Bill, because he's such a good bloke as well as good looking, in that rogue-warrior kind of way, but me? I think her veela radar must have been wonky when she had that thought about me!_

Hermione's thoughts wandered to all kinds of things, but mostly about the last couple of days, and as annoyed and embarrassed as she was with herself, and she almost wanted to avoid thinking about how she had acted, she soon came to a conclusion. _I know why I threw up again,_ she thought. _It's when...when...come on this is silly...it was WHEN Bellatrix was mentioned, and mention of anything she said or did in my presence...mention of her...name. Her name? That is absolutely ridiculous...I can't allow it to control me. She didn't kill me...and she's not going to kill me. If I let her, she wins...she gets my life without any more effort and that is wrong on every principle! It's only her blasted name...Bellatrix...Bellatrix Lestrange..._

Despite chiding herself and trying to toughen herself up, the mere thought of the psychologically disturbed witch made Hermione feel that familiar sensation as if she was about to shiver, but she held herself rigidly and refused to shiver. _She might have done all manner of horrible shit to me, but she is not going to rule me just by mentioning her blooming name._

Hermione was trying to become strong and take herself to a stronger place, but suddenly her mind was filled with doubts again. _Is this how it started for the Longbottoms?_ she thought. _Were they fine one day and...and it came back and grabbed them, to be gone forever by the next day? Was something left behind within them?_ However hard she had tried Hermione couldn't avoid shivering again and it woke Fleur.

"You, okay?" asked the blonde woman.

"The usual," said Hermione glumly. "The usual for me in the last couple of days, anyway."

"It will get better," said Fleur. "You need some time and rest."

"Rest? If I rest much more I'll be comatose!"

Fleur chuckled. "You know what I mean."

"I know you have experience with curses and charms...," began Hermione, wondering more about her reactions and finally daring to ask more. "...have you studied the effects of the _Cruciatus_ curse?"

"Yes, and many other unpleasant curses," replied Fleur. "I became much more interested in the subject after the fiasco in the maze at the Triwizard Tournament. I never ever wanted to feel so vulnerable and unaware of possible curses again. That's when I started to refine my interests."

"Is...,"Hermione paused. "Is what I'm feeling, all this bloody shivering and throwing up, normal? This hopeless, empty feeling, too? Or does everyone react differently?"

"I'm unsure of exactly what you had cast upon you other than the _Cruciatus_ curse, but yes, your reactions and side effects are perfectly normal. In fact they're normal for anyone having endured shock, torment, torture, fear of death and long term stress. And I honestly feel that it's a combination of all those things which is affecting you."

Hermione sighed, slightly amazed at how much Fleur had deduced, as it was more than she herself had considered or admitted to. "Well, at least I'm normal."

Fleur had nearly said _'You're not normal, Hermione, you are way too special for that'_ but she opted to stay quiet, not wanting to bring up any awkwardness again. "It's an unknown thing on how long it might take."

"All I can think about is how Neville Longbottom's parents ended up," said Hermione sadly.

"That won't happen to you," said Fleur.

"You don't know that for sure," said Hermione plainly. "It was the same...witch...and all that."

"I do know, actually," said Fleur, adamantly. "I've read their files, when the Order decided to post a guard on their hospital ward a while ago. The Longbottoms were found in that condition; no one reached them in time. There was nothing left of them from the start, they didn't gradually go like that afterwards. You, on the other hand, were rescued before it got that bad. It's going to take time, though; you might feel fine tomorrow, or you might still feel poorly this time next week."

"Oh, that's cheerful," said Hermione sarcastically. "I'd settle for keeping my breakfast down tomorrow if...if...well, if that bloody woman is mentioned again."

"Please don't worry about it," said Fleur, kindly, putting a comforting arm around Hermione. "It's a natural process."

"It's an awful process."

"I didn't say it would be easy," said Fleur.

Hermione actually settled herself down again, her shivering halted by talking with Fleur and although she found it hard to admit to, she suspected that being _told_ she was fine and everything would eventually be okay, even though she _knew_ that, had helped her no end. Remaining close up to Fleur who continued to hold her , Hermione found sleep again.

Fleur was aware when Hermione had gone back to sleep and she was also aware of just _how_ _aware_ she was of the young woman in _all_ ways. She had known about the protective side of herself and how some of it was her veela heritage, but she was sensing things with Hermione now, beyond coincidence or guesswork. From the moment Hermione had arrived at Shell Cottage she had somehow sensed when the younger woman was awake or in need. When Hermione had rushed through to the bathroom that evening, Fleur hadn't seen it or heard it, she had _felt_ it; a sensation she couldn't describe, but she had known Hermione was in pain mentally and physically. As she held her now she let her own tears silently fall. They were tears of pain, and tears of love. _What am I going to do?_ she thought. _I love her so much. The world is such an awful place right now and we all have so much to do. I have to help her, and in whatever way she asks. I want so much more and know I can't have it. There's a war going on and I'm being selfish, thinking about this?! I have to help her get well. I'll concentrate on that._

She found that she had to go through her relaxation technique herself to find sleep, and became so relaxed that she thought she really was in that sunny, countryside field, and before sleep claimed her, she had got as far as finding a little quaint building at the end of the field, which she thought might be a small barn or a small hall of some sort, but before she decided to explore more - she had never created a building in her world any other time - and walk further and find out what it turned out to be, sleep had taken her.

XXXXXXXXXX

Next morning Hermione had breakfast with some of the others again; Dean and Luna had had breakfast early and were outside helping Bill with some warding spells for the house, Ollivander and Griphook were in rooms upstairs which left Ron, Harry and Fleur.

Hermione was aware of Harry and Ron looking at her a little longer than was comfortable as she sat at the table. "What?" she asked, as she took a bite of toast.

"Err...how are you feeling today?" asked Harry.

"Okay," said Hermione. She didn't add anything else to the sentence and took a mouthful of tea, hoping they reverted to the earlier plan of not asking her how she was.

Ron continued to stare at Hermione a little stunned. "Okay?" he asked. "You didn't look okay last night?!"

"It was just one of those things," said Hermione, casually. She was aware of Fleur at the other end of the table, and refused to look in her direction, even though she could feel her eyes on her. _I swear that woman is part basilisk!_ she thought with only slight irritation.

"One of those things?" Ron persisted. "Shit! Hermione, you haven't said two words about what happened, you said nothing about it yesterday, and obviously we said something wrong and stirred it all up again. At...at the time, all Harry and I heard were your screams, but we know Bellatrix must have done something to you? Why won't you talk to us about it? You're obviously unwell, because of it?"

Hermione reached for her cup of tea again, desperate to swallow something in case the name provoked whatever it was to make her sick again. She felt her heart beat faster, and she felt too warm, and then there was that feeling of wanting to shiver again; she shut her eyes and sat up straight, trying to avoid the shiver. She was feeling almost in control and about to answer when a voice with a slight French accent spoke.

"Ron, surely you can guess what it might have been, yes?" said Fleur, seriously. "It is early days, Hermione will talk to you when she's ready to, but please give her some space, and give her some time."

Those seated at the table would have made a bet on Ron getting irritated and telling off Fleur. Instead, Ron looked to Hermione, wearing a slight blush, which most would have taken as anger or annoyance in him, usually, but he said, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to bother you. I...I just care about you."

Harry gave a funny little gurgling noise as if he had had a cornflake go down the wrong way. Hermione felt a bit warm again and found she had to look away, except she happened to look towards Fleur and saw the blonde woman looking very serene, but that wasn't quite right. Having spent some time with Fleur and become accustomed to some of her expressions, Hermione could see that Fleur's actual eyes did not look serene at all; her eyes looked annoyed. _She's getting all protective,_ Hermione thought. _It's nice in some ways, but a little stifling at times too, especially in this little house._

For years Hermione had wanted Ron to show some intent of affection, and he had done so, in a way, when he returned to them after using the deluminator he had inherited from Dumbledore to find them, but to hear actual words that he 'cared' about her, shocked the brunette. What stunned her more was that, she was more interested in what Fleur was really thinking, than daydreaming over wondering if Ron would finally ask her out.

When Ron had spoken, Fleur had felt angry, to the point where she had to talk to herself to regain some control. _He doesn't know what I know,_ she thought. _He doesn't know how I feel about Hermione; how the veela within me feels about her. I need to be cool-headed about this, because none of that complication is going to help Hermione._

With the slightly uncomfortable breakfast over, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in a corner of the sitting room and began talking again, about things they needed to try and do and ideas for locations and other possible horcrux objects. Oddly, both Ron and Harry seemed to know not to say Bellatrix's name and were talking about other things anyway.

Fleur left the three of them to it, knowing that there were things she would never know and must not know. She went upstairs and checked on Mr. Ollivander before she decided to change the sheets on the bed in her own room and run a few cleaning spells on other bits and pieces of laundry, as it seemed that Bill was unlikely to think of it first.

As Fleur was folding up a sheet, Bill walked into the room. "Everything all right?" she asked her husband.

"Yes," he replied. "As all right as things can get these days. How's Hermione doing?"

"It's hard to tell to be honest," Fleur admitted. "I think she'll be okay, I just don't know how long that will take. She's a fighter, and she's strong...but one can never know how...how..."

"How things affect the individual," Bill finished his wife's sentence.

"I don't know when you'll get to sleep back in here," said Fleur, sheepishly. "The nights have been a little unpredictable; all things are worse at night, and I'm not sure how she'd be if..."

"No, you stay in here with her," said Bill. "These are not regular times. We can't play happy families anymore. I have this feeling she's a very important piece to everything and to keeping Harry and Ron safe. Not just for her sake, but for everyone's sake we need Hermione well and ready for action."

"You sound like Kingsley or Remus! She's a young woman, not a soldier in an army, you know?!"

"We're all soldiers," said Bill gravely. "Until this thing is ended, we're all fighting. I don't mean to sound callous: I care for Hermione a great deal, but we're all having to do our bit and I know even _she_ knows how important it is to carry on, especially as they seem to be doing something on Dumbledore's orders."

Fleur knew he husband spoke the truth: they were indeed all soldiers, trying to find a way to survive and beat back the tide that was Voldemort and his followers. Bill walked over to his wife, hugged her and placed a kiss on her cheek. "We're all in this together," he said, as he began to walk to the door again. "Hopefully it will be us coming out at the other end victorious. But, victory is never certain until it's actually been won. Until then, we keep on trying and fighting."

It was at times like this that Fleur understood why she had married Bill, and what it was that had attracted her to him, beyond superficial things. He spoke the truth, often in a somewhat tactless way, which was the Weasley way of doing things, and in never losing hope he still understood the reality of situations. He had never been deceived with the veela charms that she had and he had never showered he with infatuated flattery, he had always spoken the truth. There was flattery at times, but nothing more than any husband would say to their wife and probably much more sincerely meant too. With all that said, she still couldn't deny how she felt about Hermione, and now, it went beyond love or desire, she wanted to heal her in any way she could. She only hoped that the protective veela part of her stayed away and let her think clearly and calmly to help the young woman in the best way she could. Whichever part of her was in control she deeply wanted to take away the pain and give back the strength to Hermione, which she was going to need in the struggles ahead.

XXXXXXXXX  
"You're mad!" said Ron.

"Well, I don't know what else to do," said Harry. "It's partly why I want to talk to him."

"Nobody attempts this," said Hermione, as she sat again with the other two, discussing their options for the near future. The boys avoided talk of Bellatrix, only lightly touching on to the connection to her, and Hermione was proud of herself for being angry enough inside to stop more than the threat of a shiver.

"People _have_ tried it," said Ron.

"Yes, but no one has succeeded fully," said Hermione.

"But no one had a goblin with them, did they?" said Harry.

"We can't trust the little sod not to double cross us," said Ron. "They always ask a price, a bargain, and nearly always mean something you never intended."

"That's the risk we'll have to take, but we all have to agree on this," said Harry, looking in turn to the other two, hopefully.

"We have no other plan yet," said Hermione, then she sighed, and shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps it could be tried. But first we have to talk to Griphook and then, and only then can we decide if it might work. If he refuses to help, which he probably will, then we'll have to think of something else."

Harry nodded his agreement. "What about you Ron?"

"Well, I can't leave you two to get killed alone, can I?" Ron said with a small laugh. "I'm in."

"Right, we'll try to talk to him tomorrow," said Harry.

The rest of the day the three of them went through their now common routine of thinking of items or locations of horcruxes, and Hermione checked on their polyjuice potion again, because even with a goblin helping them, there was no way any of them would get far without being recognized. They would have to get Bill or Fleur to go into the nearest town and gain some hair for them to become other, anonymous people. They also went through what each of them had ever seen or read about Gringotts, trying to get as much knowledge as they could to face Griphook with, so as not to be easily lied to.

Once evening arrived again, Hermione began to feel tired and rather than push herself, knowing that they actually had some time, she went upstairs early. She could almost predict that Fleur was going to appear in minutes. All day the blonde woman had kept her distance; Hermione was aware of her being around, but she hadn't spoken much to her except at meal times. In less than two minutes Fleur walked into the bedroom, as Hermione was rummaging in her beaded bag.

"I'm sure you're tired of this question, but I'll ask anyway, because I need to," said Fleur. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I think so," said Hermione. "I'm really tired, so I came up early. You don't have to have an early night too."

"I'm also tired," said Fleur. "These days I'm tired a lot with the way the world is."

"I'm not helping that either," said Hermione, glumly. "Hopefully another day or two and I'll be back to normal."

Fleur went to sit next to Hermione. "I didn't mean _you_ made me tired."

"I'm sure your life would be easier without a house full."

"True, but if I can help you in any way, it makes it all worth it."

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond further and went to the bathroom to clean her teeth and change into her nightwear. She was unsure as to where Fleur was going to sleep and that delayed her in the bathroom a while longer. _Do I offer the bed to her?_ she thought. _It would be polite...but then it might make things extra awkward or..._ She continued thinking for a few moments.

As Fleur waited to use the bathroom she was thinking about the same thing. _Unless she asks me, I'll not assume I'm sleeping in the bed,_ she thought. _The chair is comfortable, so I'll carry on and set up my place there._ Deep down inside she badly wanted to be physically close to Hermione again, but knew she couldn't do what she wanted and only what Hermione wanted.

A while later, a relieved Hermione was in the bed, and Fleur was comfortable in the armchair. The pleasantries of some 'good nights' and they both settled to get to sleep.

 _I wish I'd never kissed her on my wedding day...or even in the woods that time,_ thought Fleur as she began to doze off. _Well, I_ liked _kissing her, but it's really made this situation more delicate than it ever should be._


	4. An Idea

**A/N: I'll try to update with new chapters every few days.**

4: An idea

After a few hours of restful sleep, Hermione was suddenly aware of dreaming, and a dream she didn't want to see at all. She was duelling someone and when she looked around the nondescript room, she saw it was Bellatrix. The black-haired witch was screeching at her to give back her wand. Hermione had looked down and saw she had the wand which Harry thought was Bellatrix's. She felt dizzy, and fell down to the floor and started shaking, and then she woke up to find she was shaking and shivering for real.

Hermione blinked her eyes a few times to wake up properly, and wasn't surprised to find Fleur sitting on the edge of the bed. "S...S...Sorry," said Hermione, talking around teeth that wanted to chatter.

"It's okay," said Fleur, as she laid a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Was it a bad dream or a flashback?"

"I don't know, really. I'm not sure what the difference is, lately," replied Hermione. "It had _her_ in it. I'll be fine in a minute or two."

"Do you feel sick?"

"Actually, I don't," said Hermione. "That's an improvement. I don't feel brilliant, but it's better than before."

"Is there anything you need?" asked Fleur, ashamed to admit to herself that she was hoping that Hermione wanted her near. "Do you want a hot drink?"

"No, I'm all right," said Hermione. "I think I'll just go to the loo and then try to get to sleep again."

Although she had the occasional shiver run through her, Hermione made her way to the bathroom; she had taken her beaded bag with her to find a warmer shirt to sleep in, hoping that actual warmth would help prevent any further shivers. As she sat on the closed toilet seat, she pulled out some clothes, and found the shirt she had been wearing the day she arrived at Shell Cottage. She was about to put the shirt back and choose another one, when she stopped and stared at the collar.

The light in the bathroom had drawn Hermione's eye to a loose thread. She got hold of it and expected to have to tug it to break it free and was surprised when it came away with no resistance. Straight away she realized it was a hair and not a thread, and in that split second before she discarded it, she could see it was black. _Bellatrix!_ she thought, as a shiver coursed through her. Once more, she didn't want to vomit and only felt mild nausea, but it had still affected her. For some reason she hunted in her beaded bag for a paper bag and placed the long black hair into it, and put it into the pages of a potions book and back into her bag. She wondered if she would be able to use it as a way of beating her problems: thinking that she had a piece of Bellatrix, but Bellatrix had not succeded in taking a piece of her too. Hermione took several deep breaths then walked back into the bedroom, and back to the bed.

"I'll be okay," Hermione said to Fleur, who was looking at her with concern. "I changed my shirt to something a little warmer, but I'll be okay."

"If you need anything, you know you only have to ask," said Fleur, as she made herself comfortable on the chair once more, despite the veela part of her nearly pushing her to get closer again to protect the woman she loved from any possible hurt in the waking or sleeping worlds.

"Thanks, Fleur," said Hermione graciously. "You've done so much for me already. Hopefully I won't wake you again and it will be morning next time."

XXXXXXXXXX

The next couple of days were filled with concentration and pondering on what to do. Harry, Ron and Hermione had spoken to Griphook and much to the latter two's dismay, Harry had promised the goblin Godric Gryffindor's sword for getting them into Bellatrix's vault at Gringotts. They had spent a long time talking with Harry about that, but they came to the conclusion that anything they asked of the goblin would have had the same price. They had spoken with the goblin again about ideas for getting into the vault and despite his acceptance of helping them, he was basically telling them it was futile to even try it.

The three of them had also spoken to Mr. Ollivander and with not particularly satisfactory results, when the old man had tried to hide things from Harry. There was nothing very sinister about why he had chosen to lie about the Elder Wand to begin with, but it was very unsettling. Their meeting did confirm that they had both Draco Malfoy's and Bellatrix's wands.

Fleur continued to insist that Hermione slept in her bedroom and that she wasn't to be alone. Hermione had woken a couple of times in the latest night, once from a Bellatrix dream and once for no particular reason. She shivered again, but she was able to gain control of it more easily. She began to feel she could recover from this, or at least live with the side effects for a while. She also had to admit that in this short time she had grown used to Fleur being there and was very grateful to her, and she had grown to embrace the relaxation of visiting the sunny field in her mind, touching the grasses and letting the cares of the world feel far away. Fleur was the only person she had told more details to, about what she remembered of her torture. It had felt good to tell someone, and to tell someone she knew who cared; it had truly felt like a problem shared was a problem halved at those times.

As Hermione settled again to sleep, after another disturbance, she thought through all of the plans they had come up with for entry into an even more guarded Gringotts. She considered that, if they were three strangers, it might be just as dangerous as if they were themselves, and it would certainly provoke suspicion.

 _If all three of us walk into Gringotts with Griphook leading the way,_ Hermione thought. _it will look nearly ridiculous. There is no way we'll get beyond the front desk! Harry suggested using his Cloak, but we can't all get under it, and even if one of us is disguised with the others under the Cloak, it will still look odd._ Hermione jiffled and found a more comfortable position on her side. _If we use polyjuice potion to become random muggles then we won't be known in the magical world at all, and why would we just happen to turn up, now of all times, when everyone is on the alert for suspicious activity. Shit! We'd probably be hauled off to Malfoy Manor again! OR...get questioned by the Ministry, which is completely untrustworthy at the moment, or we could be taken by the Order. Urgh! Bad plan...bad, bad plan._

Hermione shivered at the thought of Malfoy Manor and being captured again. _I'm not going to be Bellatrix's puppet ever again!_ Then another thought came to her. _What if Bellatrix became_ my _puppet? I could become her: I have her hair: we even have her wand. No one would dare to question Bellatrix about what she's doing. Could I become her? Really? Yes, I bloody well could, because I'm in control; I'm using her for my deeds, not the other way around. I'll suggest it to Ron and Harry tomorrow._ After settling her mind on the somewhat disturbing idea she had for entering Gringotts, and gaining access to the exact vault they needed, Hermione drifted off to sleep.

Next morning, after breakfast, when Hermione was able to get together with Harry and Ron in their now, customary huddle in a corner of a room, she told them her idea. "I think it might be the only thing that will get us at least beyond the front door."

"Are you mental?!" exclaimed Ron.

"Ron!" Harry said, hating that after the things Hermione had had to deal with, one of her best friends was questioning her sanity, even if it was in jest.

"Oh! Shit, I'm sorry, Hermione," said Ron, realizing his faux pas. "I didn't mean...you know..."

"Nevermind about that, I knew what you meant," said Hermione, not wanting to dwell on her mental state. "I think it's all we have to work with, and will allow us a better chance at direct access to the vault we need. Would either of you question Bellatrix about where she was going and why?"

"No," admitted Ron. Harry gave the faintest shake of his head.

"Even other Death Eaters are scared of Bellatrix, and I don't think the Malfoys know how to deal with her unpredictable side, and _they're_ her family!" said Hermione, extremely proud that she had said the name 'Bellatrix' twice with only the slightest fluttering feeling through her body. She was aware of feeling hyped-up and maybe that need for action in their venture had beaten down the other effects.

"You know what you're saying?" said Harry, carefully. "You'll have to be her, dress as her, act as she would. It might be an act you have to keep playing for a few hours."

"I've thought it through," said Hermione. "I know it won't be fun; none of this will be; but anything we have which we can use has to be tried. I have a hair of hers and we have her wand."

"Won't it be known that her wand was taken?" asked Ron. "I seem to remember Dad saying once that stolen wands were sometimes made aware of in the Ministry."

"It might be," replied Hermione. "But hopefully I won't have to use it unless for identity in the actual vault and that would be for the vault's sake, not a person or a goblin."

The rest of the day they planned further details about their Gringotts operation, and even Griphook said it stood a better chance of working. They all decided that Hermione would become Bellatrix and Ron would have a small glamour charm to disguise him as some foreign wizard friend, and Harry would be under his Cloak with Griphook, as the goblin was sure his own presence would be suspicious.

The day had been a hectic one of planning and of Hermione thinking deeply about how Bellatrix would act and react to everyday situations and people. She considered that glaring at people and not saying 'please' or 'thank you' were high on the list. Once more she opted for an early night, which Fleur insisted, as always, to accompany her.

It didn't surprise Hermione to find herself in a nightmare once asleep. She had walked into Gringotts dressed as Bellatrix only to come face to face with the real one, and she couldn't fight back. The older witch took her wand back, leaving Hermione wandless and at the witch's mercy. She felt pain go through her body as the _Cruciatus_ curse was used on her.

"Hey, you're safe. No one's going to hurt you," said the soft voice of Fleur.

Hermione woke up, gasping for breath and discovered she had been crying in her sleep and no doubt crying out too. "Urghh!" she groaned, then muttered, more to herself than to Fleur, "I thought I was getting better?!"

"Remember what we said about how you might have ups and downs with this?" offered Fleur as she sat on the bed, her hand covering Hermione's, on the outside of the bedcovers.

"Yeah, I remember," said Hermione, giving a sigh, and wiping her eyes and cheeks. She shivered a little again.

"What happened?" asked Fleur.

"I actually know it was a bad dream, this time," said Hermione.

When Harry, Ron and herself had been planning their trip to Gringotts, they had all agreed that no one, other than Griphook, should know what they were doing for the safety of the others around them; with that in mind, Hermione decided not to go into detail as she had done previously. "That damn woman was in it again!"

"I'm sorry," said Fleur gently. "I can't do anything to take that away."

"I know you can't. No one can," said Hermione. "It's something I've got to get used to." She shivered again, and tried curling up to get warm.

Fleur so badly wanted to wrap her arms around Hermione and hold her, but she knew she couldn't just reach out and grab the young woman; she was careful in even touching her hand. Instead she opted for the very calm and relaxed option, hoping her voice didn't betray her. "Hermione, would you like me to sleep next you for added warmth?"

Hermione surprised herself when she said with very little thought, "It's worth a try, it's worked before."

The Frenchwoman felt her heart jump slightly and immediately squashed down her feelings, and was adamant she was _only_ caring for the younger woman, as she got into bed next to her and, as the times before, all but spooned the younger woman, wrapping the quilt around them both. "Are you comfortable?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Sorry about this, I didn't think I'd need to do this again."

"Don't be sorry," answered Fleur. "You have nothing to apologize for. Do we need to go for a 'walk'?"

"Why not," said Hermione, growing used to Fleur's voice calming her, and the relaxing place she took her to in her imagination. It did indeed take her away to an idyllic world, where nothing and no one could touch her. Fleur would add different little details or small things to be imagined or pointed out, each time they went for their 'walk'.

"You're in a field, the sun is high in a blue sky, with very little clouds. The grasses are tall, and as you walk along you brush them with your hand, the strands tickling your palms..."

The pair of them found sleep again, but after a short time Hermione was awake once more, her mind was so busy that she didn't think much about the fact she had turned in her sleep to lay on her back and Fleur's arm was now draped around her waist, her head close to Hermione's shoulder. The younger woman was feeling nervous because of the negative situation her earlier dream had given her. She knew that somehow she would keep things together, but it was going to be so hard to maintain the illusion that she was Bellatrix, even if the polyjuice potion was going to be doing most of the work, visually.

 _I have to feel stronger than I do now and more positive about being her, otherwise I don't stand a chance of being remotely convincing, and it could all end before we've even started. Hmm...what is stronger than her name?_ thought Hermione. _What have I felt that is positively better than what that...that nutjob witch did to me?_ She kept herself still, so as not to wake Fleur. _Ron coming back to find Harry and me, and telling us how he found us...or more specifically, how he found_ me _: that was pretty special._

She went through several thoughts and ideas, including the time she first produced her own patronus in the Dumbledore's Army meetings and times when she got house points for homework and answering questions in class. So far, everything she had considered hadn't given her the immense feeling she knew she needed to beat back Bellatrix's memory. She thought of all the times she had enjoyed at the Burrow, with Ron and the Weasleys; and then a thought came to her, that made her take a sharp breath. She hadn't forgotten it at all, but she didn't expect it to be something she would want to use in a positive way, considering it made her feel downright guilty. She was suddenly very aware of Fleur: aware of the older woman's head close to hers and her arm around her, and despite her slight feeling of uneasiness, she remembered those kisses on Fleur's wedding day. Stolen, forbidden and guilty.

 _No one's made me feel like that,_ thought Hermione. _I hate to admit it, but it stirred me mentally and physically, more than anything Ron has done. Great?! So, I have to kiss Fleur to beat off the spectre of Bellatrix, to walk into Gringotts with confidence!? Not bloody likely!_ She couldn't contain a little noise of derisive scorn at herself.

"Hmm, everything okay, Hermione?" asked Fleur as she awoke.

"Yeah...I think so," said Hermione.

"You think so?" asked a more awake Fleur.

"Sorry I disturbed you," replied Hermione calmly, wishing she had kept more silent and not had to explain herself. "I know that I have a problem sometimes even saying...Bellatrix's name. She isn't going to win; I'm finding a way to fight it and I was thinking of things to help."

Fleur was aware of where her arm was, and calmly moved it as though she hadn't noticed and patted Hermione's hand by her side, feeling admiration for the younger girl. "I will say it again, if you need any help, you only have to ask."

Hermione laughed. It was the first time she had laughed properly in days, and certainly since she had been at Shell Cottage. "I only...have...to...!?" Hermione snorted with laughter again, her body shaking from humour rather than shivers.

Fleur gave a little laugh herself, thrilled to see Hermione laugh at all, but she didn't have a clue what was funny. "Have I missed something? I don't quite understand?"

When Hermione caught her breath and stopped laughing she said, "It's not something you can help me with." She moved back and saw that Fleur looked confused. "I was going through all the positive things that I've experienced to try and think of something to battle back against Bellatrix, when I feel overwhelmed by everything. It's not unlike when Harry was teaching us to produce the patronus charm, having to think of something really happy and positive. Anyway the most positive thing I thought of, was rather surprising, but not something I can really use."

"What was it?" asked an intrigued Fleur, wanting to know if there was something she could help with.

"It was...no, I can't say," said Hermione.

"I won't repeat it," said Fleur. "It might be really helpful to know what it is, and maybe we can work out a way to use it after all."

Hermione smiled, and gave a girlish laugh again. "You wish!?"

"Hermione, my English is fairly good, but I think I'm misunderstanding something here? I hate to ask, but are you making fun of me? I know I should be the last person to complain about that, after what I did to you at Hogwarts, but I don't enjoy being made..."

"I'm making fun of myself," said Hermione, then she decided something. Fleur said everything in that room would stay there and she trusted the woman to keep her word. "I'm making fun of myself, because the most positive thought that came bounding into my head was...was when you kissed me on your wedding day. See? It's stupid and wrong and not at all helpful."

Fleur was taken aback at the confession, and feeling incredibly pleased too, however guilty she also felt. Those kisses had been the best thing Fleur had experienced in her life too. "And you can't use those thoughts?"

"Well, _no_!" said Hermione. "Because the...whatever the positive thing is, it's held back by feeling dreadful for doing that to Bill. I can't use something as wrong as that, to become the thing I think of to be stronger."

"I think it's okay," said Fleur, who then had another thought which she decided to say and not think on for too long. "We could make new memories for you."

"What...what are you talking about?" asked Hermione, unsure as to what Fleur exactly meant.

"I could kiss you again, and you could use that as a memory of when you decided to fight back and recover." _Why did I say that?_ Fleur thought in a panic. _I might have shit things up completely now! What am I thinking?!_

"What about Bill?" said Hermione. "I can't forget you're a married woman, and...and shit! I'm in your bed with you instead of him being here?! And...and I'm still not into women like that!"

"I realized the bed thing the other day," said Fleur with half a smile, literally, because the other half of her was straining to stop herself from saying anything more. "Married woman? I'm not sure I am." She dropped her gaze down and her smile disappeared. _She doesn't need to hear my problems...I'm a selfish bitch...I'm..._

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione. "What's happened with Bill?"

"Nothing much, and that's the problem," said Fleur, resigned to the fact she couldn't not answer Hermione, now. "I love him, and he's a good man, as we've always known, but he's changed. It's not his fault and he hates it as much as I do. I never thought it would be that important...but it's not just me, he feels it too...I..."

Hermione reached for Fleur's hand. "Feels what? How has he changed?"

"It's since Greyback's attack," said Fleur with a sigh. _I might as well tell her everything,_ she thought. _She seems to want to know._ "Things have gradually developed, it seems. He likes rare steaks, can detect scents and other things that have happened over time. Oh, he's not a full werewolf, so don't think that, but he's changed in so many ways."

"Does he have trouble around full moons?" asked Hermione.

"He's worse then, yes," said Fleur. "But the thing which has changed, no matter what time it is, concerns when we want to be intimate."

"Oh," said Hermione, feeling a blush creep to her cheeks; she was not so sure she wanted to hear the answers, now.

"Bill and I haven't made love properly for months."

"Oh?!" was all Hermione could say again, feeling very much out of her depth on a subject she had very little experience of.

"He can't help it, and we've tried potions and all kinds of things, but when we try to make love he's more wolf than man."

"He's hurt you?" asked Hermione, warily.

"He's never meant to...but, yes, it's happened," Fleur said with another sigh. "We've tried so many things; I've even tried to turn the experience into a positive one, as thrilling hard sex is what some people enjoy...but...it's not me. I don't like to be bruised and hurt when I make love. I trust Bill with my life, but I don't trust him when we try to be intimate, now. Which is a sad and damaging situation. The truth is, even _he_ doesn't trust himself either and he flatly refuses to try any more. He's subtly asked Remus for advice, and we've talked to some contacts overseas, but there's never been a case like Bill's, the kind of half werewolf limbo situation he's in. Aside from the fact there is no real advice, because Bill is unique. There's a chance he's more wolfish at times when werewolves aren't, due in fact to the unique type of werewolf Greyback is...nothing has worked, not even a little. After the...after the last time we tried, he said he'd never try again...that he wouldn't allow himself to be in a position to hurt me."

"I'm sorry, Fleur." Hermione was aware that her mouth felt very dry. "I don't know what else to say."

"He knows about you," said Fleur, who then frowned. "I don't know why I told you that, but it seems I just have."

"Knows about me? What do you mean?" Hermione felt suddenly nervous.

"He knows that I've always had affection for you. It never bothered him either," said a very matter-of-fact Fleur. "I think a lot of men find the notion as some kind of fantasy. Anyway he knows. He doesn't know I've kissed you, but he did say when Ron showed up here, having left you and Harry, that you would be better off with me than Ron."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "WHAT?!"

Fleur managed to smile. "Bill is my best friend, and although neither of us thought sex would be an important issue, it definitely makes a difference, not just to me, but to him also; especially in the circumstances affecting us with the issue. When you love someone, you want to share yourself with them in the most full way possible, when you don't or can't it feels debilitating. We have tried everything, but whenever we get close to more than kissing and hugging, his alpha-male wolfie persona comes through and he's grabbing at me like a starving man for bread. I could fight him back with magic, but it's difficult to be on edge wondering when you might have to strike your lover with a spell instead of letting yourself go to the trust and feelings a relationship should have."

"I'm..." Hermione felt pathetic and inadequate for not finding any words to say.

"You're sorry?" Fleur offered, feeling the veela within her almost purr again. "Yes, so am I. Anyway, I could kiss you if you want me to?" _Fuck! Why did I say that?! She's going to leave this room and then everyone will wonder what happened. This is not doing her any good either...I might be putting her progress backwards._

"Have we forgotten the part where I said, 'I'm not into women', despite those other kisses, which I didn't have much time to think about?" offered Hermione, oddly feeling down about it.

"Does kissing me, mean you have to like women? Why couldn't you just like me?" suggested Fleur, not being able to shut up the bold side of her personality, no matter how many thoughts went through her mind.

"Because...," Hermione began, but then found she had no argument to Fleur's proclamation at all, because Fleur was right and Hermione was wrong. _Why would I have to like other women? Maybe it is just Fleur...or maybe I'm delirious and thinking stupid things!_ "Because I would have to feel certain things, and I hardly know you...and..."

"I hardly knew Bill at one time, then we kissed and got closer," said Fleur. "I've spoken more with you than I ever did with him before we got together."

"Point taken."

"I'm not forcing you, Hermione," said Fleur, with a touch of sadness and realization. "My god, I just want you to feel well again and I shouldn't be suggesting anything near to taking advantage of you in a vulnerable situation. I'm so sorry...that...that pathetic part of me, which is full of excuses, should be begging your forgiveness, not pushing you to do anything."

"Hey! You're making it sound like...like you have me prisoner unless I kiss you?! You're not Bellatrix!"

"I know I'm not," said Fleur. "I'm someone who always wants what's best for you, who cares for you whatever you do, and if you never want me to kiss you I will still care about you. I'm an awful bitch for even bringing this thing up at all, please forgive me... although I don't really deserve forgiveness, I know."

Hermione had been watching Fleur as she spoke and how much she was giving to her: complete honesty, no pressure, no expectations. In this vulnerable and sad moment of confessing that her marriage was essentially dead, Hermione felt something for Fleur. It was a deep tugging sensation in her chest, which she had only felt similar when she had kissed her all those months ago.

 _If I kiss her again,_ Hermione seriously considered. _Where does that leave Ron? He's made half-hearted attempts to say he likes me and wants to go out with me, but he's never asked and beyond holding my hand, which even Harry has done a lot lately, there's been nothing more. I've all but asked him out myself, and he always thinks I'm joking and messing around. Am I just wasting my time? For some reason I can't bring myself to ask him outright...maybe I'm old fashioned like that.. Could I have been as honest with Ron as I have been with Fleur? Could I have confided in him and relied on him after Bellatrix? I think I know the answer...or I might have it confirmed soon._

"I'm not going to forgive you again," said Hermione, as she tried to hold eye contact with Fleur.

"You're not going to forgive me?" asked a worried Fleur.

"No," said Hermione. "Because other people might have to forgive me instead."

"I don't understand...?"

Hermione leaned over Fleur, looked down into her eyes, and in a bold move, gently pressed her lips to Fleur's. The Frenchwoman had been surprised and after the initial shocked moments, she responded to the soft lips questing at her own, and slowly wrapped her arms around Hermione. Fleur's heart, felt to her, like it had enlarged, and she was sure her veela blood was singing; Hermione was kissing her, because it made her feel good and was completely her choice. If Fleur died now, she would die having felt contentment and immeasurable happiness. _What am I doing?_ she thought. _This only complicates things for her and..._ Further thoughts were pushed aside as their kiss deepened.

The previous history between the two women and Hermione's bold decision to do what she was doing, meant she had no hesitation in pushing her tongue against Fleur's lips, asking for entry; a soft tongue then met her own. For what might have been several minutes the two women continued their kiss, and the longer it went on the more sure Hermione became about her choice.

It _all_ felt good to Hermione: it felt good to be kissing Fleur and to feel her arms around her. It felt familiar and as if it filled the gap where something had been missing, only until now Hermione hadn't been aware that anything was missing in the first place. She didn't feel embarrassed or flustered as she had done in previous kisses with the blonde woman, she felt cared for and stronger.

 _All of these feelings from a kiss?_ thought Hermione. _I bet it's her blasted veela blood corrupting me!? I'd never be doing this if it wasn't for that! Although...there's a lot of things I never thought would happen, some of them much less pleasant. If this feels good, then why should it be bad? Fleur cares about me, and that much has been obvious these last few days. She's gentle, intelligent, caring, courageous and beautiful, why should any of what I'm doing be bad? After the crap that's been happening lately I think we all need to take a risk to find some happiness, however fleeting or short-lived it might be._

Fleur was still trying to accept that Hermione was kissing her through choice and not through flabbergasted surprise. When the kiss had continued part of Fleur was eager to get much more passionate, but she stopped herself. _I will not do anything to scare her or push her into anything. I need to let her set the pace,_ she thought. _I have my arms around her and we're kissing, it is more than I could ever have hoped for again._

After a little while longer, the kiss came to a natural end, with Fleur lightly tugging at Hermione's bottom lip before they parted, both breathing more shallow and with slightly flushed cheeks. Hermione laid her head on Fleur's shoulder and was silent for several minutes.

The silence was confusing to Fleur and she was worried about what any of it meant. "Hermione," she said, softly. "I'll be honest with you: if you never ever want to kiss me again, I would understand, but I want you to know I will never forget this, you...you've made me so happy in these moments."

Hermione shifted her position to look Fleur in the face. "I...I don't...," she struggled to form a reply.

"I'm sure it's confused everything," said Fleur, guessing what Hermione might be thinking. "I know you said you wanted to kiss me, but I'd understand if you regret that now. I'll never assume anything or think anything has changed, but as I said, if you never want to to kiss me I'd..." Fleur was stopped from finishing her sentence, as Hermione had pressed her lips to Fleur's . It was a short, soft kiss.

"There's your answer," said Hermione. "I'm not sure I know what I'm doing in the bigger sense of things, but I know I like kissing you and I...I like you very much. Aside from that ridiculous business at Hogwarts, you've made me feel special, and you make me feel... _things_."

Fleur couldn't prevent the tears gathering in her eyes, or the one tear which escaped from the corner of her eye and rolled down the side of her cheek to the pillows. "Hermione, I... don't know what to say."

"I'm logical, Fleur," said Hermione. "And I tend to look at things methodically too. And as I kissed you, and was just about able to think coherently, I knew that I can trust you completely. That's as good a place to start as any. So I don't regret my decisions here and now."

Blinking her eyes a couple of times to see more clearly, Fleur could only smile. _I can't believe this is happening?!_ thought Fleur in astonishment. _I can't believe this is happening, NOW?!_

"Hermione, you haven't been well, and you've been under a lot of stress...I...," Fleur was stumbling for word choice again, as she considered that it was just the situation making things more intense.

Hermione moved a hand to cup Fleur's cheek. "Stress might well be making me act this way, but after what's happened lately I...I maybe want some stress of my own choosing. This was my choice to kiss you, _my_ choice. I suppose your veela charms might be helping...but..."

"My veela _charms_ don't usually work on women," said Fleur. "Not in that way, like it affects men."

"They don't?!" replied a surprised Hermione. _I'm feeling the way I have been because that is what I actually feel?_ she thought, questioning herself. _I've been having thoughts about Fleur of my own making? Bloody hell!_

"No, that part is effective on males only," answered Fleur. "It was thought to be needed in order to reproduce and keep our line alive, so veelas needed to be able to attract males."

"What about all this protecting thing you've been doing for me?"

"Oh...you noticed that?" said Fleur abashed. "That's different. Sorry if I've seemed a little suffocating for you. I'm afraid my veela blood does make me protective over the ones I care about, especially the ones I love. I have tried so hard to hold back and not smother you...obviously I wasn't succeeding."

"I've noticed the way you've cared for me," said Hermione. "Yes, it was a bit annoying at times, but I've been thankful for it too. Harry and Ron care, I know they do, but for some reason I can't open up to them about anything much."

"I think, firstly, it might be because they're men. Secondly, I think it might also be the fact that you're the one that normally has the answers and you don't want them to lose faith in you or see you as a weakness."

"I don't think that!" said Hermione, immediately.

"I think you'll see that I'm right about that, and also I think you know that they can't handle facts and certainly not the facts about what happened."

 _She does have a point,_ thought Hermione, calmly. "Perhaps," she replied. "I know I can't see myself touching the subject with them before we leave."

"You're leaving?"

"I can't stay here forever, Fleur," said Hermione, kindly. "Harry, Ron and I, have things we need to do and I need to go with them."

Fleur felt a touch of fear grip her heart and make her chest feel bereft of breath for a few moments. "I thought you might advise them, and let yourself heal properly here."

"That's not who I am," said Hermione. "I have to go onwards _with_ them."

 _I'm being silly,_ thought Fleur. _Of course she wouldn't let them go off, and stay here with me. I wish my fucking veela protective blood would shut up for a moment!_ "I'm sorry, Hermione, I wasn't thinking straight. Of course you'll be going with them...that annoying part of me, just wants to keep you safe with me."

Hermione smiled. _She does genuinely care for me, if I didn't already know,_ she thought. _It actually feels nice that someone would want that for me: to protect me and get me to stay with them, rather than going off to unknown dangers._ "I think I wish I could stay, now," she said. "But we can't always have exactly what we want."

"I suppose we don't really know where we stand," said Fleur.

"Regarding what?" asked Hermione, her mind wandering. "You Know Who, or what Harry, Ron and I will be doing?"

"I didn't mean that," said Fleur, feeling a little uncertain about saying more, but knowing she was going to have to. "Hermione, I mean about us. Is there even an 'us'? Or did we just have a couple of kisses?"

"Oh, that," said Hermione, brought back to the initial subject, but now feeling a little overwhelmed. "I don't know." _Can there be an us?_ she thought. _I know Bill isn't a problem, but even if this was kept secret, could there be an us? Does she even mean the same 'us' that I'm thinking of?_

"Okay," said Fleur, building herself up for the question. "I'm not sure of the exact words for this, but, Hermione, would you...will you...um...consider being with me, as more than a friend, as more than an occasional kiss?"

"Oh," replied Hermione, feeling like she had sherbet in her lungs and feeling irritated with herself for feeling like that. She suddenly felt exhausted by everything, and with what she knew was a wish to avoid the difficult consequences of anything they decided.

"I'd understand if you don't want that," said Fleur, unable to keep eye contact with the brunette now. "It would have to be, somehow, secret for a time if we did and I know there's a range of difficulties with all of this, and I shouldn't even be asking, but dark times tend to make a person..."

"Fleur, I can't honestly answer it, now. I don't know what I'm thinking. I think I want more, but I don't want to...bugger anything up before I know what I'm doing or... _urrghh!_ " said a frustrated Hermione, not ready to get her mind around the implications at that moment. "I'm too tired for riddles!" She put a hand to her face as a flash of images came to her of nearly getting caught by Voldemort at Godric's Hollow. "Shit!"

"What's wrong?"

"I can't get away from riddles, or the 'riddle' being You Know Who. He ruins everything; how I think, how I feel, even my own existence lately. I know it's much worse for Harry, but since your wedding I've done nothing but run away from You Know Who, while at the same time run towards him. I'm tired of it."

Fleur gently held Hermione to her as she lay back on the bed, not as self-conscious as before and not worried that she might be rejected whatever their status turned out to be. The younger woman made no move to wriggle away. "Can you tell me, anything about what you've been doing?"

"Not really, I..."

"I promise that anything in this room stays in this room. I won't tell Bill or any other living soul, but I know you've been in terrible danger. The strange reports we've had through the Order along with the various places and sightings. None of it makes sense, to any of us. And Ron wouldn't say much when he was here after he left you and Harry, and we didn't push him to tell us anything."

Hermione briefly chewed her bottom lip, wondering what she could say. She couldn't say anything about their plan for Gringotts, but she badly needed to talk to someone other than Harry and Ron and she had known for several months, as well as the last few days, that Fleur could be trusted.

"You don't have to...," Fleur began to say.

"What I tell you, must never be repeated," said Hermione, thinking of a way to tell Fleur, yet still be vague enough that she didn't know the whole story, and the reason for Gringotts, if she ever worked it out. "We've been doing some things for Dumbledore."

"I knew this much, several of the Order knew this," said Fleur. "Can you tell me what?"

"Not everything," replied Hermione carefully. "But one of the things we were trying to do was to find horcruxes if we could, or came across information to find any."

"Horcruxes? Whose?"

"You know what horcruxes are?" asked Hermione, fully prepared to have to explain it, and being slightly winded when it seemed otherwise.

"Yes, I've come across them in study. Are they Death Eaters' horcruxes or...?"

"You Know Who's," said Hermione, immediately feeling Fleur flinch slightly. "It's one of our jobs, if we happen to find any. A few have been destroyed and we...soon after we left, we followed the trail of possibilities and found one and destroyed it by ourselves."

"Shit," said Fleur. "That's incredibly dangerous. I can't believe Dumbledore even suggested you look for any?!"

"Who else? Harry has his connection to You Know Who, it's sometimes been insightful, but when Ron left us, Harry and I nearly got caught by Him," said Hermione, as she explained about Godrics Hollow. Then she tried a bit more to make the horcrux hunt the least important thing and seem as if it was only a sideshow compared to other things they were doing for Dumbledore. "We don't know exactly how many You Know Who made or where they are, but if we can find any or get an idea of where one might be, then we've tried to follow that lead. Dumbledore gave us a few tasks, but I can't say much more, because some we won't know until we're faced with them; we only really have wild guesses in a lot of cases."

"How could he treat you all like that? How vague can you get?! How dangerous?!"

"I know, but we accepted it as just part of this whole war thing," said Hermione with a sigh. "Anyway, some of my flashbacks are not only of Bellatrix, but when we were nearly caught at Godrics Hollow, and the close times before that, when we were on the trail of a horcrux. I want nothing more than to run from You Know Who, but I always seem to be heading towards him. I'm tired I suppose."

"I'm sorry, for making it more confusing," said Fleur, feeling very guilty over the kisses now.

"Don't be, it's a much more pleasant thing to be confused about," said Hermione, guessing what Fleur was referring to. She raised her head up and kissed Fleur's cheek. "Thanks for listening and for keeping my secrets."

"I mean it, Hermione. If you tell me a secret, it stays a secret." Fleur kissed Hermione's cheek back. "I think we should try and sleep now."

They got comfortable and Hermione appeared to find sleep in no time, but Fleur was awake a little longer, as her mind and heart hurt from knowing the extreme dangers and stress that Hermione had had to endure and wondering at the things Hermione wasn't telling her, which were likely to be more dangerous than horcruxes, if Hermione didn't want to talk about them.

At that moment Fleur hated Dumbledore, and she blamed him for the younger woman's ordeal with Bellatrix. _However wise you think you were, Albus Dumbledore,_ she thought. _This is incredibly wrong, what you've expected of them. Hermione could have been killed several times!Did you even care about that?_ Then she became angry at Ron and how on earth he could have left Hermione and Harry in such dangerous then recognized her fiercely protective veela side surfacing and with a couple of deep breaths, calmed herself, stopped hating Ron and stopped hating Dumbledore, because she knew he would never set them tasks he didn't think they could do, and besides, everyone was in danger these days and who else would have a clue what to search for if not Harry and his two friends, who had been in on it all from the start?! And then she found sleep herself.


	5. Breathless

5: Breathless

Once or twice during the night both women awoke, and had thoughts going through their minds, but didn't disturb the other and drifted back to sleep eventually, regardless of their minds actively seeking answers. Fleur was in disbelief and actually considering that maybe her veela blood _had_ affected Hermione after all, then knew it wasn't that, which made it all the more astounding. The younger woman was in a similar state of disbelief, but not regretful, only a little apprehensive over what it might all mean in the larger scale of things.

Hermione awoke first the next morning and once she had remembered where she was, she then remembered the person sharing the bed with her, and slowly rolled to look at Fleur. The Frenchwoman was asleep still, and Hermione watched her, wondering how on earth she had gone from irritated loathing, to attracted and reciprocated desire; how she was even at this moment, admiring Fleur as a person and even as a potential partner. That notion, of being partners, gave Hermione the sherbet-like sensations in her chest again, which she supposed was either excited fear, or excitement about finding out she liked Fleur in that way; she suspected it was a little of both. Something she _had_ noticed, was that her fear from what Bellatrix had done, and what might yet happen, was less than her feelings about kissing Fleur and feeling 'something' for the woman: that made her feel stronger already.

After a few minutes, Hermione's silent watch was broken when Fleur opened her eyes. The blonde woman smiled at Hermione, then her expression turned to one of concern. _Last night might not mean anything today,_ Fleur thought. _I shouldn't expect more, especially as Hermione is trying to get over everything and..._

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione, noticing the change in Fleur's expression.

"I hope, nothing," said Fleur. "I hope you don't hate me for last night, and even if you've changed your mind, I hope you're not full of regret or even guilt?"

"No," said Hermione. "I was in my right mind last night. I don't regret it, and although I'm sure I feel a little guilty about it, I am contented enough about it all. Oh, and I don't hate you."

Fleur felt relieved, but was still unsure as to whether there would be more or whether it was just those kisses last night. "Well, maybe you can use that memory...if you say you don't regret it, and might have enjoyed it...to...to help you. You can draw on it as your reserve of good feelings...if you did feel good...if you didn't..."

The blonde woman had started to babble again, obviously nervous and uncertain of the way things were that morning, so with very little thought, and astonishing herself, Hermione leaned over and kissed Fleur; a short, gentle meeting of lips.

"Does that help?" asked Hermione.

"Help?"

"You're wondering what last night meant, aren't you? You're wondering if it was only those moments and not what I'm feeling this morning," said Hermione, as she maintained eye contact with Fleur, and found her choice was made. "I feel the same now as I did then, except...except I think I'm more certain."

"More certain of what?" asked Fleur, hoping she had understood things correctly, but not wanting to just assume.

"That: as bizarre as it has all been, that I would like to be more than just an experimental, or stolen, kiss."

"Oh," was all Fleur could reply with. _Am I awake yet?_ she thought. _Yes...I am, therefore this is a waking dream!_

"Oh?"

"I've felt for you, for such a long time, and until my wedding you only seemed to suffer my presence. I never ever thought I'd hear what you're telling me this morning," said Fleur. "My only thought is: why? Why change and take that risk with me?"

Hermione paused before replying, thinking on how to describe it and deciding on doing something she rarely did: speaking about what she felt and not thinking through exactly what she said or holding back anything. "I think I might always have felt something for you," she said finally. "Which might be why I was so upset about how you spoke about me at Hogwarts. Hate and love are closely associated. Even those kisses you stole from me made me feel something, and it wasn't just shock or excited exotic novelty. You've told me that veelas don't generally affect women, so I must always have been drawn to you. And kissing you feels right, like we've always kissed...I...I can't explain it beyond that."

Fleur couldn't hide her smile when she heard Hermione's sincerity and the actual words she spoke. "I know this is a very difficult and complex situation and we'll have to hide this for a time, as everyone has so much to deal with, but may I kiss you now?"

Hermione smiled and blushed in equal measure, and Fleur leaned over and kissed her. Hermione put her arms around Fleur, threading her fingers through the soft blonde hair, and the kiss naturally deepened, until they had to break apart for some air; Fleur's ribs ached liked she had been running and developed a stitch.

"Hermione, you make my heart beat so fast, like I've been running a race," said Fleur, as she settled by the brunette's side again, expelling a couple of unsteady breaths, her chest literally thumping away with feeling.

"Really?" said Hermione, feeling a little embarrassed.

Fleur moved to hold Hermione's hand and bring it up to lay flat on her chest. "Can you feel it, pounding away? You've always done this to me in some ways, but when I kissed you now, after what you said, it's nearly out of control."

Hermione could feel the thumping rhythm through her palm; she liked how it felt and that she was the cause of it. She also had to admit that she liked laying her hand on Fleur's chest, because even though it was through a T-Shirt, she could feel part of the swell of Fleur's breast and after what she had admitted, she felt oddly liberated and suddenly her thoughts no longer bothered her as much and she felt safe to be herself, or at least to be how she wanted to be at that moment. _How daring can I be?_ she thought, feeling bold. _I trust her, she cares for me, the worst that can happen is her telling me off, or that it's too soon._

"So...so, your heart has always jumped around because of me?" asked Hermione, with a smile.

"Yes, I will admit that to you. No one else knows that. Bill knows I've always liked you but he doesn't know details. I didn't think it was fair to talk about you so obviously, not with the problems we had."

"I hope I'm never a problem for you now."

Hermione looked over into Fleur's face, and leaned down to kiss her; a slow, tender kiss and with her hand still resting on the older woman's chest she slowly slid it a bit lower so she covered the firm breast. The brunette had no idea how her action would be received and wasn't exactly sure of her entire plan for her hand, but thought it would more than likely involve being pushed off.

When Fleur felt Hermione's hand, slide very deliberately, to rest more on her breast, she could do no more than make a little noise into the kiss. That hand alone was setting her on fire, and sent a jolt through her body; it was such a strong feeling that Fleur had to break the kiss, not wanting things to happen too fast or too frantically, however much her body wanted to continue and see where it went.

"Sorry," said Hermione, making as if to back away. "It was a bit fast of me, especially as I've always been the one acting stunned by you."

"Don't be sorry," said Fleur, as she covered Hermione's hand with her own and kept it over her breast. She squeezed the brunette's hand slightly to feel herself held by her, not being able to stop a little sigh of pleasure, or her nipple hardening from the touch.

Hermione was feeling completely mesmerized by Fleur and how she was reacting to her, and now she knew it was unlikely to be anything to do with veela thrall, she felt so different. _Here, right now, all I want to do is make her feel good,_ thought Hermione. _It's a bit scary!_ Not knowing what else to do, Hermione kissed Fleur again.

 _Shit! This could so easily get out of hand,_ thought Fleur. _Hermione is kissing me and touching me...however tamely it is. I'm delirious!_ she thought. _I need to slow this down, I cannot trust the veela to behave! At times like this I feel I could be as dangerous as Bill, which is plain wrong!_

Fleur broke the kiss again, which made Hermione look worried, as if she felt she had gone too far or done something wrong. The blonde woman gently cupped the brunette's cheek as she looked up into her face, and guided her to lie next to her on the bed. It looked as though Hermione was about to apologize again and Fleur stopped her.

"Don't be sorry. You have done nothing wrong," said Fleur. "We needed to slow things down. There's no need to rush into anything."

To try and soothe any doubts or fears Hermione might have had, Fleur pressed her lips to the younger girl's and placed some soft kisses to her cheek, enjoying that even this was making Hermione take some extra breaths.

"We'll soon have to get up anyway," continued Fleur, not wanting to move from the bed at all. "I can't be all hot and bothered and have no explanation, now can I?"

"Ah...err...yeah," agreed Hermione. "I'll be back into plan mode with the boys, I expect."

"I suppose you cannot tell me anything about the plans you have?"

"Sorry, no...not at the moment," said Hermione, wishing for all the world that she could.

"I know you're often looking at a batch of polyjuice potion you have," said Fleur, and when Hermione's eyebrows rose, she added, "I smelled it before I caught a glimpse of it, days ago, as you put it back into your bag."

"We don't know if or when we'll need it," said Hermione, hating to leave out information, now. "We had to use it when we were hunting that horcrux." _Maybe I can ask Harry and Ron if I can tell Fleur,_ she thought. _She won't like it, and it might put her in danger, but I hate hiding things from her and it has nothing to do with kissing her; she's helped me so much and held my confidance. I can trust her._

Fleur went to the bathroom first and Hermione again found herself disappointed that Fleur wasn't going to dress in the room. _At least my interest is a valid one, now,_ thought an amused Hermione. _Or I understand why I'm interested!_ Hermione then went to the bathroom herself and went down for breakfast shortly.

Hermione couldn't avoid feeling a little awkward; in trying not to think about Fleur, she thought she might be too deliberate in ignoring her; then when Bill walked in and had some breakfast with them, she felt even worse. After a while, though, she became more rational in her thoughts and treated it as though everything in the bedroom stayed there, like it had been with her problems from Malfoy Manor.

Later on, Harry, Ron and Hermione continued their plan-talking, which Hermione was now almost bored with, and she annoyed herself for letting her mind drift. She was thinking how much she wished to be in that bedroom again, maybe not kissing Fleur, but just being held by her, resting her head on her shoulder, inhaling that calming scent that was like lily-of-the-valley and something that was uniquely Fleur.

"Hermione?" Harry said, suddenly.

"Yes?" Hermione answered fast, snapping herself out of her wandering thoughts.

"Are you all right?"

"Oh don't start all that again," said Hermione, nearly groaning, but also trying to cover up what she knew had been herself 'spacing out' on her friends. "I'm fine."

"I was talking to you and you were miles away," added Harry.

"Did you have a bad night?" asked Ron, in a tone that said he really wanted to know, but didn't want to lose any fingers or toes for asking.

"I woke up a couple of times," Hermione told them truthfully. "I'm okay, really I am. There's been a lot of planning lately and my head is going around and around with it."

"There might not be much more planning," said Ron.

"Why?" asked Hermione, fully alert to her two friends now.

"I've been getting access to You Know Who's thoughts," said Harry, but quickly added. "Yes, yes, I know I should try to stop them, but I can't! Anyway, we're going to have to do something very soon, because he's definitely on the move, and we might soon be in a position where we can't do half of what we need to."

"Right, so can we set a day?" asked Hermione, feeling a fluttering of nerves in her stomach.

"A few days time maybe," said Harry. "Is the potion still okay?"

Hermione had only checked the polyjuice potion quickly before leaving the bathroom that morning. "It's ready to use."

"There's not much more we can prepare, is there?" inquired Ron.

"We need to prepare Griphook a bit more," said Harry, sounding as though he would much rather do anything other than that. "And Hermione...are you...well, can you...you know...?"

"I'll be all right!" Hermione said. Somehow, within herself, she knew she would be ready, Fleur had given her the strength she had talked about, when they had shared that kiss on her wedding day. She finally understood what that meant now. "I'm better. I might never be perfect, but I can handle what we have to do. I'm better if I'm kept busy and not have time to dwell on things."

Ron looked to Harry and they both shrugged their shoulders and seemed to accept it. "We'll have to see how the manky old goblin is, but maybe by tomorrow, we'll know a day we can set aside?" offered Ron.

"Okay, fine, how about you Hermione?" asked Harry.

"Providing Griphook complies, then I'll follow whatever you choose," answered Hermione, feeling not only nervous flutterings in her stomach now, but also a tugging sensation, as if homesick. She knew that she was already not wanting to leave Fleur. _To leave when we've only just started...started whatever it is we have,_ she thought. _What if things change and if we all make it, and then there is no choice to be with her at all? Maybe it's more reason to enjoy what we have now._

"Harry can work on Griphook," said Ron, with a smirk. "The little shrimp seems to be intrigued by you, mate."

"I think he's only intrigued about the sword," said Harry flatly.

The rest of the day, they finalized some of the minor details, and with Griphook agreeing to their schedule of another few days time, it felt more and more as if they had to enjoy their days at Shell Cottage, because they didn't know what lay ahead, except more difficult challenges. In the late evening Bill had taken Harry aside in the kitchen, which made Ron and Hermione raise their eyebrows at each other, knowing that if Bill had an inkling of their plan that he would try to stop them. Hermione and Ron stepped outside for some fresh evening air and Harry joined them a few minutes later.

"What did he want?" asked Ron.

"To warn us about Griphook and that we can't trust him or take what meaning he really holds us to, from any bargains we've made," said Harry, tiredly.

"Does he know anything?" asked Hermione.

"I think he's guessed Gringotts is involved, because we want Griphook's help, but he doesn't know exactly. If he does, he never said anything about it," said Harry.

"Yeah, I suppose that bit wasn't hard to guess," said Ron.

"Anyway, I'm tired. I'm going to get some sleep," said Harry, going back indoors.

Before anyone was able to turn in for the night, they were surprised by the visit of Remus Lupin; he was immensely happy to see all the fugitives at Shell Cottage, Bill and Fleur hadn't told anyone, as of yet, about their house guests, but now at least some of the Order would know. Lupin was seemingly unable to take a smile from his face, as he told them all that Tonks had given birth and he had a healthy son called Teddy. It was a truly wonderful piece of news, and they all felt lifted by it and full of hope for the future, or at the very least they felt more motivated that they had so many things to fight for. A few drinks were had and then Remus left to go back to his wife and son. Bill and Fleur accompanied him outside before he left.

"I haven't any other news," Lupin said. "No one new has been in or out of Hogwarts through the last secret way, since just after Christmas. Hogsmeade is guarded and we've heard that they've set wardings and alarms now, to catch anyone happening to _appear_ in the village."

"That doesn't sound good at all," said Fleur.

"No, it's not. We've had no good news for a while. It seems a lot of _our_ students are still trying annoying tactics, but at what cost?" Lupin, sighed.

"We have no way to help them yet," answered Bill. "I only hope we soon have a way to make a difference and clean Hogwarts of the evil gits in charge there."

"Yes, we all hope that," said Lupin, lowering his voice to less than a whisper. "You haven't told Harry about the Hog's Head entrance?"

"No," said Bill equally quietly. "We don't think anyone else should know. Harry might decide to try it or one of the others. We can't endanger the only way that the students might have to get out if things go badly." Fleur had agreed when they had first heard of the last passageway open into Hogwarts, which the Death Eaters didn't know about, that the knowledge should not be passed to anyone else.

"Good...good," replied Lupin, as his face went very serious. "I assume you were going to tell us about everyone staying here?"

"Yes," said Bill. "We weren't sure how to go about it, to be honest. The less people who know the better. I was hoping to get word to Dad or you in a day or so."

"I'll let your Dad know, and Kingsley and Tonks, but we'll keep it to that for now," replied Lupin. "Are they all okay? Harry and the others? They look all right, but if you healed them I wouldn't know."

"They're all right...well...it was Hermione who had it the worst," said Bill.

"Bellatrix had her and...um...and _questioned_ her under certain curses," said Fleur, trying hard to keep her voice even and not give in to the emotion she could always feel nearby when she thought of Hermione's traumatic experience.

"Bellatrix had her?" asked a very worried and astounded Lupin. "And she's okay?"

"I think she will be," said Fleur, confidently. "It will take a little time, but she's already so much better than when she first arrived."

"Anyway, we don't want to dampen your joy, mate. Send our love to your wife and son," said Bill.

Remus Lupin immediately broke into a smile as he thought about his happy news again. "Yes, I'd better be getting back. But it's so good to see them all here, and safe...for now."

XXXXXXXXXX

That night Hermione and Fleur shared some more kisses, seemingly more and more comfortable with each other and the concept of even being intimate with each other, both feeling happy for Remus and Tonks and therefore feeling calmer about everything in general. As they kissed Hermione had naturally rested her hand on Fleur's chest again, flexing her fingers, loving how her simple touch seemed to give pleasure to the blonde woman. When Hermione felt a hand lightly rest on her own chest, she broke from their kiss, feeling so many things from that touch.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," said Fleur, looking worried.

"No, it's fine," said Hermione, as she held Fleur's hand and guided it back to her chest. "No one's ever...touched me. It kind of sent a bolt of lightning through me."

"I've wanted to touch you for years," said Fleur with a smile.

"Then...please do," said Hermione, blushing.

Fleur kissed Hermione, and gently held the younger woman's breast through the material of her T-Shirt. Hermione also kept her hand on Fleur's chest, as if grounding herself. Their kisses were deep, yet tender, and as Fleur tangled her tongue with Hermione's she gently moved her hand over the brunette's breast, giving the slightest of friction over a hardening nipple; it made Hermione give a little moan as they kissed.

 _She's making me melt!_ thought Hermione. _She's definitely increasing the moisture in some parts of me!._

The thing Hermione didn't know was that Fleur was very aware of her. _I can smell her arousal,_ thought Fleur, trying to rein in the part of her that wanted to be very much more passionate. _She's really feeling that for me? Shit!_

Fleur slowly ended their latest kiss, looking into the younger woman's eyes. "We need to sleep ."

"Yeah, I suppose so," said Hermione, sighing.

They settled down to sleep, with Hermione sleeping up close to Fleur again, loving the security it made her feel. Fleur had needed several minutes to calm herself into restful breaths and find sleep, her desire heightening all her senses. She used their 'walk' to send them into a calming slumber, which always seemed to work now.

Hermione didn't have any nightmares or flashbacks during the night, and awoke feeling very rested; she also wanted to kiss Fleur straight away. It now felt like the most perfect way for her to wake up, something she never would have believed a couple of days ago; that she wanted this, and wanted those kisses from Fleur, of all people.

The day seemed to plod by, as Hermione, Harry and Ron, met again with Griphook and worked out a few more potential issues, or as many as they could think of. Fleur caught up on some odd jobs around Shell Cottage, before reading the latest Daily Prophet that Bill had acquired, trying to see what the propaganda stories actually meant, looking for anything that might tell them the state of various people and places, and further situations.

Although both Bill and Fleur had accepted that their marriage was not much more than a loving friendship, they had still been used to spending more time together than they had done since all the fugitives had arrived at their home. Fleur had hardly spoken more than a handful of words to Bill all day, until she stepped outside for some fresh air that evening after dinner, leaving the table-clearing and dishes to Ron and Dean, whose turn it was that night.

"Everything okay, Fleur?" asked Bill, as he walked up beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, as they both looked seawards.

"As well as can be expected."

"How's Hermione?"

"Doing really well," said Fleur. "She's winning that battle."

"I'm pleased to hear that," said Bill. "There's no telling what's ahead, and I'm sure...," he stopped himself from saying what he'd intended to.

"You're sure of what?" asked Fleur.

Bill exhaled a deep breath. "I'm sure you two getting closer has helped."

"We've been on better terms and almost friends since before our wedding," replied Fleur. "She doesn't seem to hate or dislike me anymore."

"I know," said Bill.

"It's made looking after her easier."

"I know."

"I'm just relieved they got her away from that place when they did."

"I know."

Fleur turned to look at her husband, a little irritated by his nearly monosyllabic replies. "Why do you keep saying you 'know' to everything?"

"Because I know," said Bill, and added before his wife became very annoyed, "I _know,_ Fleur. I know you and Hermione are beyond friends."

"Oh," said Fleur. Although Bill had known about her attraction to Hermione and was at ease with the notion, she still felt like the wind had been knocked out of her when he admitted to knowing that more had happened. "How?"

"It's your scent," he said, comfortable to talk about his abilities with his wife, where others may have made him feel odd. "For a couple of days, your scent has been a bit different. You smell of nervousness and desire and I assume you've been sleeping next to her, because I can smell Hermione on you, and you on her and it's different to the scents of concerned friendship."

"Bill, I'm..."

"I know you're going to say you're sorry," said Bill, sadly. "But I don't want to hear it."

"Oh, Bill," said Fleur, feeling close to tears, knowing that their friendship was likely to be over too, within the next few moments. She looked away, as tears wetted her cheeks.

Bill turned his wife back to him, gently, and wiped her tears away with his thumb. "What I mean is: that I'll always love you, Fleur, but I know I can't give you the life you deserve or the real love you deserve. As much as it pains me to say it, I understand...about you and Hermione. For what it's worth I'm glad it's her and not some drooling bloke. I won't say anything, because it's private between us, but I truly hope that you can have some happiness before everything kicks off again and before they tread the dangerous road they're choosing."

Fleur and Bill hugged one another and it was after a few moments that Fleur stepped back as she went over what her husband had said. "Dangerous road? Do you know what their plans are?"

"Not entirely, no," said Bill. "I think Gringotts is involved, because of all the time they've spent with Griphook, and I know they're not sitting at his bedside to feed him grapes!"

"What do they hope to find there except unnecessary danger?" asked a worried Fleur.

"I really don't know," said Bill. "I've tried to warn Harry about being careful of Griphook and goblins in general, but as we don't know what their plans are, or what Dumbledore's tasks were for them, then we know nothing."

"Gringotts, would be silly," said Fleur, trying to think of the reasons. "If they need money, we could give them some, they don't need to risk stealing some or...or visiting their own vaults."

Bill shrugged his shoulders. "As I said, I don't know the whys, wheres or what-fors."

"Bill?" said Fleur, wondering about something. "Do you think Remus knows about Hermione and me? He obviously has more talent than you with his nose."

"I don't think so. He probably isn't as aware of you and Hermione, like I am. I've spent more time with you both too. He would probably assume Hermione is wearing some of your clothes or something. Unless you and Remus ever got _really_ close at some time I haven't heard about, then I don't think he'd recognize...the certain scents I do," explained Bill as tactfully as he could.

"Oh...right," said Fleur, with half a smile, knowing with a small amount of embarrassment which scents her husband was referring to. Her veela blood allowed her to be sensitive to certain scents too, but she hadn't come across the situation her husband was dealing with to know what it felt like to know things based on scents alone.

That night as Fleur and Hermione got into bed and straightened the bedcovers, the nagging questions the Frenchwoman had could wait no longer. "Why are you going to Gringotts?"

Hermione felt like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Gringotts?"

"Yes, Gringotts," said Fleur, as she moved so she could see Hermione's face better.

"What gave you that idea?" said Hermione, feeling almost sick as she lied.

"Talking to Griphook as much as you three have," said Fleur.

"Oh, we were asking things about the properties of the sword of Gryffindor," said Hermione, as convincingly as she could.

Fleur could often detect lies from the nervousness in a person, and she hated lies, even though she knew there was probably a good reason for it and Hermione may not have been able to divulge anymore to her. "Don't lie to me Hermione, please don't," said Fleur, but not unkindly. "You can say that you can't tell me, but please don't lie to me, I often know when people do and I hate it when it happens, however well intentioned."

"All right, I can't tell you," said Hermione, who quickly added, "Believe me, Fleur, I want to tell you, but I can't. I'll have to talk to the other two and maybe then I can say something."

"Don't go to Gringotts, Hermione," said Fleur. "Please don't go there; it's too dangerous, even if you can trust Griphook for whatever it is you're asking of him, you will be in great danger there."

Hermione moved her hand to cup Fleur's cheek, lightly stroking the soft peachy skin, knowing that what she said would only confirm Fleur's suspicions even if she didn't tell her exactly. "Everything is dangerous at the moment, Fleur. I can't stay wrapped in cotton wool forever. I promise you that we'll take the greatest care we can, but sometimes going into danger is the only way to avert further danger."

"I know...I know these things," said Fleur, a wash of emotions. "I just don't want anything to happen to you. The past few months have been so bad, not knowing where you were, or if you were safe, or if the rumours of Harry's death were real and your death along with him. The day you arrived here was one of the happiest days of my life, even though you were hurt...but...but I had you with me, here, where I could protect you."

"As sweet as that sounds, you can't protect me forever," said Hermione, softly.

"I have to believe I can," said Fleur. "The veela part of me, demands I try."

"Then you've already protected me," said Hermione with a smile. "You've brought me through a dark time and restored me. You've picked up the empty shell that I was when I arrived here and you've given me the strength to carry on and face the next challenge, whatever that happens to be."

"It's not enough...it's..."

Hermione put her finger to Fleur's lips to quieten her. "It will have to be, for now." She then replaced her finger with her own lips.

It didn't seem to take long for a tame kiss to become much deeper, and when they broke apart, Fleur placed soft kisses to Hermione's cheek and down her neck, loving how she heard the brunette whimper slightly at the sensations.

As they kissed again, Hermione found Fleur's hand and led it to her breast, and once feeling that hand touching her, she immediately wanted more and guided the hand under her T-Shirt. She was feeling so many emotions, that she wanted to feel something else; to feel something real and grounding.

"Are you sure?" asked Fleur, stopping her hand from being led further. _I think I might die from this!_ she thought, hardly daring to believe how things were happening.

"Yes," said Hermione, timidly. "I want to feel your hand properly, to know what it feels like."

As the two women kissed, Fleur's hand cupped Hermione's firm, bare breast under her T-Shirt, the nipple going hard as the blonde woman's palm slid over it, making Hermione moan into their kiss. Fleur gently rubbed her thumb and fingers over the nipple, lightly pinching it, before cupping and kneading the firm mound of flesh again. Once or twice it made Hermione nearly arch up into Fleur, pushing more of herself into the Frenchwoman's able hand. The sensations they both experienced were intense, and Fleur didn't want to rush them in any way, so after a time she just held Hermione's breast while leaving soft, dabbing kisses to her lips.

"I think we should sleep, now," said Fleur, in a low voice, so obviously full of desire.

Hermione took a couple of breaths. "Yeah...okay."

Fleur was about to slide her hand back from under Hermione's T-Shirt, but the brunette stopped her. "Keep your hand there," said Hermione, boldly, but knowing she was blushing. "I...I like the feel of you touching me there. I don't want it to be over just yet."

Smiling, Fleur nodded, pressed a kiss to Hermione's lips, then said, "Lie on your side, facing away from me, like we have done before."

"What?"

"Trust me, my idea is a good one," said Fleur. Hermione looked at her confused, but rolled onto her side with her back to her. Fleur got up close behind her, spooning her, then reached a hand around and up Hermione's T-Shirt to hold her breast as she hugged her. "This is what I meant."

"Ohhhh!" replied Hermione, partly from realization and partly from how wonderful it felt to have Fleur holding her in all meanings of the phrase.

"Think you can sleep like this?" asked Fleur.

"Yeah, it's not so different from before...only...if I can control myself not to...," Hermione snorted with laughter.

"What?"

"Trust myself not to flip us over in the night and ravish you!" laughed Hermione.

Fleur laughed too, getting way too many images in her head and having to beat down the veela within, as she placed a kiss on the back of Hermione's neck and settled her hand comfortably on Hermione's pert breast.

"It was such lovely news about Remus and Tonks, wasn't it?" said a yawning Hermione. "It gives everything perspective and focus."

"I agree. It was wonderful news. I'm so happy for them both."

"Night, Fleur."

"Sleep well," said Fleur, feeling comfortable beyond words as she protectively held Hermione's breast, and in truth, her entire being.

As Hermione settled into the pillows, feeling Fleur's body up against her, she marvelled at how her lips tingled, and how her body felt both alive and incredibly relaxed. _I don't regret this,_ thought Hermione. _The way she's made me feel, and how I seem to affect her, I like it. I like it a lot. I like her a lot._ She shifted her position slightly to find sleep, all too aware that she felt very affected between her legs. _Shit! I never thought I'd get wet, in the sexual sense, because of Fleur. As Ron would say: that's mental! As for Ron...maybe he missed his chance, if he even wanted me as a girlfriend anyway. I couldn't have made things much more obvious to him, without degrading myself. I have to live for today, and today Fleur has made me feel amazing, and she...she makes me happy. Bollocks! I'm totally gone!_ Drifting off to sleep, Hermione had a smile on her face, something she never thought she would experience again so soon.

Fleur was feeling contentment; she had Hermione's scent seemingly absorbed into her very being and knew the girl had been aroused, just as she felt aroused too. She was glad she had halted things where they were because it would have been too fast, no matter how many years she had loved Hermione. She very much hoped they would have something more together and that maybe one day they might make love. _It's wrong to even think of this now,_ thought Fleur. _Too much is going on; too much has happened and too much has yet to happen. I can't complicate it for her. I will settle for kisses...kisses I never thought she'd ever suggest herself. And it seems I get breasts too! That is more than I could ever have hoped for._ Fleur also drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.

Next morning the two women awoke, in the same position as they had fallen asleep, Fleur spooning Hermione from behind and her handed resting on Hermione's breast under her T-shirt. They both woke up within minutes of each other, and Fleur held Hermione back into herself. She rubbed her thumb over the nipple of the breast she held, before lightly tugging it between her thumb and finger. Hermione sighed with pleasure and wriggled slightly. Fleur leaned forwards and placed kisses to the brunette's uncovered ear, and briefly sucked the earlobe.

"You're so beautiful, Hermione," Fleur whispered as her hand continued to caress the younger woman's breast.

Hermione turned onto her back and brought Fleur down to kiss her, muffling her whimpers from what the hand was doing to her as it moved to her other breast. Not knowing where the thought came from, only that she wanted to feel it, Hermione threw back the bed covers a bit, then lifted her T-Shirt, before guiding a surprised Fleur's head to her chest.

Looking back up to Hermione's face, as if asking if the girl was sure, and getting a nod of consent and a sigh, Fleur lowered her head and placed tender, featherlight kisses to Hermione chest, slowly making her way to a nipple, before taking it in her mouth and gently licking, and sucking at it, rubbing it with her tongue. _This is unbelievable,_ thought Fleur. _It's heaven!_

Fleur made her way to the other breast, giving it equal attention, as her hand made sure the first didn't feel left out. After a short time, Fleur kissed her way up to Hermione's lips again, and hovered over her. "Were you really sure about that?" she asked, uncertain, hardly believing yet another astonishing thing to happen between them.

"Very sure," said Hermione. "It felt amazing." She had her arms around Fleur as she brought her down for another kiss, once again loving how the blonde's soft hair felt, flowing down onto her chest.

With only a small amount of nerves, Hermione snaked a hand down to the hem of Fleur's T-Shirt and hesitatingly moved her hand up underneath it. Fleur stopped their kiss, which made Hermione more shy and and uncertain, but what Fleur then did was to sit back and take off her T-Shirt completely, before gently and slowly guiding Hermione's hands to her naked breasts.

Hermione couldn't speak, only take in the sight and the feeling of Fleur's perfect breasts, and how the nipples were already standing to attention. She lightly cupped the breasts with her hands, enjoying the feel of the weight of them, and moved her thumbs to brush over the nipples, making Fleur suck in a breath.

Fleur moved her position so she could guide Hermione's head to her breasts, desperately wanting to feel the younger woman's mouth on her. The brunette placed soft kisses to her upper chest, but when she got lower to the main goal, she looked back up at Fleur, almost asking permission and that it was all right.

"Please," said Fleur, her voice husky with want.

Small nibbling kisses brought Hermione nervously to a nipple, and her nerves dropped as she took the nipple into her mouth, loving how it felt, how Fleur tasted and that she was causing the blonde woman to moan. For several minutes she loved Fleur's breasts, feeling ever more aroused herself and thinking that her partner must be too.

Fleur was having great trouble holding on to any sense of calm; her groin was throbbing, desperately wanting Hermione to kiss her lower and ease that ache and desperate herself to be inside Hermione as she brought her to release and loved her completely. However, she used the control she had had to learn from very young when dealing with her fiery veela emotions: she moved back from Hermione a little, and bent her head down to kiss the younger woman; a slow sensual kiss.

"That's the best morning wake-up gift I've ever had," said Fleur.

"I don't want to go down to breakfast," said Hermione, then sighed. "I want to stay here with you."

"I couldn't agree more," said Fleur, with a laugh. "But we know we have to start our day."

Hermione used the bathroom first, her own groin aching with desire, something she had never felt to that degree before. Every piece of attention Fleur had given to her breasts had sent sensations down to her centre. As she thought about it, her inner walls clenched and released, making her release an unsteady breath. _What did she do to me?_ she thought. _Well, I_ know _what she did, but I've never wanted to...to...to fuck something as much as I do now!_ The language of her thoughts made her chuckle.

As Hermione used the bathroom, Fleur was sitting on the bed still trying to get her own body under control. She crossed her legs to try and relieve the throbbing ache she had between them, as her veela blood demanded more intimacy. But she fought it down, and despite wanting to stick her hand down her pyjama bottoms and touch herself to relieve the ache, she maintained control and was nearly back to normal, when Hermione left the bathroom. Fleur could smell Hermione's desire again, as she passed her, and once in the bathroom, Fleur had to go through some more relaxation techniques until her blood had quietened for yet another time.

Both women found breakfast no more awkward than before, and carried on as if nothing had been happening that morning before they appeared downstairs. However, as Bill was drinking his tea he caught Fleur's eye, and grinned. She was going to give a questioning expression, but before she could he tapped his nose and grinned even more.

 _Shit!? I wish he'd turn off that werewolf nose!_ thought Fleur. _Worse than a dog sniffing a crotch!_

Later as Harry, Ron and Hermione talked, they decided on a day for their departure. "The day after tomorrow, early morning," said Harry.

"Two days?" said Hermione, and although she knew it would be soon, to actually have the date set, shocked her.

"You're okay with that, aren't you?" asked Harry. "If you need a day or two longer, we could do that, but I think we need to get moving on this soon."

"Yes...yes, we do," said Hermione.

They finalized some of the finer details and confirmed things with Griphook. Hermione had been aware of Fleur being a bit closer around them than on other days; she suspected the Frenchwoman was either feeling a need they both had to be near each other after the morning's events, or that she subconsciously felt Hermione's unease at having to leave so soon.

That evening, knowing they only had one full day left at Shell Cottage - before they left early in the morning of the day after - they all felt a little nervous, with even Ron's usual misplaced humour absent. Hermione thought that had their blood pressures been taken after deciding their next move, all three would have raised numbers. Before they were going to split off, thinking of bed that evening, Hermione decided to ask the other two about telling Fleur some of the details.

"We can't tell anyone!" said Ron.

"Normally, I know that," said Hermione, thinking of some way she could get the other two to agree to let her tell Fleur. "She and Bill have mostly guessed where we're going, although they don't know why. I won't tell her why, but I can confirm her suspicions."

"Why do you want to tell her?" asked Harry. "Plenty of other people have tried to guess what we're doing and we've not confirmed their ideas."

"I think I owe it to her," said Hermione. "I know I haven't spoken to you two much about what _happened_ , and I'm sorry I can't yet, but she was there...she's responsible for how I'm even able to think about doing this, to even be fit enough to carry it out. She's asking questions, and I think she deserves to know some of it."

"She'll tell Bill, then Bill will tell Dad and then we'll have that lot coming after us to try and stop us!" said Ron, exasperated.

"No, she won't tell Bill anything. I trust her. Everything I've ever told her...and not just here in Shell Cottage, everything has remained secret."

"You can't tell her what we're looking for at Gringotts," said Harry. "That's too dangerous, even if she has some wild guess about...ovaltines."

"Yes I agree, but I can at least confirm what she thinks she knows...and...and she might be a help in getting me to look like Bellatrix, with all the clothes and the hair," said Hermione, only now thinking that she genuinely would need a hand with that.

"Well, Fleur knows the risks of having knowledge," said Harry. "If you trust her, Hermione, then we have to. And you're right about the help you might need with the outfit."

"Right...I'll tell her tonight," said Hermione, relieved and apprehensive all at the same time.

"And if my parents show up at Gringotts just as we're about to go in, trying to stop us, I'll kick her arse all the way back to France!" said Ron, only half-meaning it.

"Your parents wouldn't be that stupid," said Harry, then he smiled. "I know what you mean, but I don't think that would be a problem. The only problem would be them having the knowledge, which would be dangerous for them, if they were in the wrong probing hands, which could then be disastrous for us."

"So, one more full day here, tomorrow, then the holiday is over," said Ron, glumly.

"Afraid so," said Harry.


	6. Strength

6: Strength

Hermione got ready for bed that night, knowing that she only had this night and one more before she would be leaving. Although she had wanted to tell Fleur what she could about their plans, she didn't know how to even _begin_ to explain any of it, especially as she knew she would be facing opposition for all of it. She spent a little longer getting ready for bed in the bathroom than normal, wondering about it all.

 _Maybe she won't ask anymore,_ thought Hermione. _She understood that I couldn't say anything before. It's completely cowardly, but maybe I don't have to say anything; it would stop her worrying too. But...I really need her help...oh blast it all..._

As Hermione walked out from the bathroom, she passed Fleur, who reached out and touched the brunette's hair, smiling. A little while later Fleur came back to find Hermione already in bed, and lying on her side, facing the window side of the room, as she had nearly always done, since arriving at Shell Cottage.

Fleur got into bed and moved up behind Hermione, wrapping an arm around her and pressing her nose into the younger woman's hair. The closeness, in physical and psychological terms, made her veela blood very content. Fleur moved slightly and leaned forward to place a kiss on Hermione's ear and neck which made Hermione squirm a little, and take in a breath.

"How is it you can make me go all wriggly just from kissing my ear?" said Hermione, amused.

"I don't know," said Fleur, leaving another kiss on Hermione's earlobe. "Maybe you like me kissing your ear?! Hmm, you make me feel the same from any kiss, anywhere."

"It's so bizarre that we're doing this?"

"Bizarre?"

"Well, it's such a change...from where we started," explained Hermione. "I'm definitely not complaining or thinking I chose wrongly, though."

"I'm pleased to hear it," said Fleur. "I could have gone on my whole life, watching you from afar; it would never have been enough, but I could have done it. Now, though...if you suddenly decided you didn't want to have more with me, it would take a lot of time for me to adjust, to not being with you and not being able to touch you." _I feel too invested in her now,_ thought Fleur with a touch of insecurity.

"I'm not sure of anything, much," said Hermione wistfully, as she interlinked her fingers with Fleur's as she was still being held by the Frenchwoman. "But this is one thing that _does_ feel right, however oddly it's happened. And the last day or so, I've only shivered or shuddered because of you and not because of...of Bellatrix."

"I'm glad if I'm able to replace her like that," said Fleur, more seriously.

Hermione went quiet as thoughts of leaving and thoughts of becoming the black-haired Death Eater went around in her head again. _I'm going to have to replace Bellatrix with myself in just over a day's time,_ she thought. _I'll tell Fleur in the morning._

She felt so comfortable with Fleur, and relatively relaxed, that she didn't want to alter the current situation. Instead she moved in Fleur's arms so that she was on her back and sliding an arm around Fleur's neck she pulled her over for a kiss. The two women kissed for a time, before they settled down to sleep, feeling content.

After having slept for a couple of hours, Hermione awoke with a start, her pulse racing and her body wanting to shudder. _What's going on?_ she wondered. _I haven't felt like this for a couple of nights?!_ She tried to calm herself again and it came to her that she had been dreaming and once more about being Bellatrix, but with things going wrong at Gringotts. She remembered the dream as it came crashing back to her, with _everything_ going wrong that could possibly go wrong.

"Are you okay?" Fleur asked.

"Sorry. I woke you up, didn't I?" Hermione said as she settled back against the pillows.

"You were a bit restless for the last ten minutes or so, until you started to shiver," said Fleur. "Was it that woman, again?"

"Yes," said Hermione, actually pleased to find herself no longer shivering, already.

"Was it like the times before? A dream or flashback, or was it a different type of dream that she appeared in?"

Hermione paused before answering. "The last couple of times, it's been the same type of dream and the same situation."

"Can you tell me about it?" asked a concerned Fleur. "Maybe talking about the details, will help to...to fight it back."

Once again, Hermione paused, knowing that to talk about the dream would be to tell Fleur about the plans, Harry, Ron and herself were going to follow. She knew she was going to tell Fleur some of it when the day got going, or by the night time, but it looked like it might have to be now instead.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me," said Fleur, hardly containing the disappointment from her voice. "I only want to help, if I can."

"I know, Fleur," said Hermione. "The similar dreams I have, involve going to Gringotts, but lots of things go wrong and Bellatrix appears and I usually have no wand; she uses the _Cruciatus_ curse on me along with a number of other things."

"I see," said Fleur, as she held Hermione a little firmer, trying to convey her love and care. "So, do you think it is a dream of fear of what's to come? You _are_ planning to go to Gringotts, aren't you?"

Hermione sighed. "You must not tell this to anyone else, but yes, we're going to Gringotts."

"I suppose it's pointless trying to tell, or ask, you not to go?" asked a fearful Fleur.

Hermione turned on to her side to face Fleur. "I'm sorry, but we have to go there. I'm sure the dream is just a fear thing. It always goes badly when Bellatrix shows up because..." She stopped short of saying that it was because there would be two Bellatrix's in the same place.

"Because? Because she captures you again?"

"That's only the half of it," said Hermione. _I'll need her help with that part,_ she thought. _So she needs to know my intentions._ "This is strictly between us; Harry and Ron have agreed that I can tell you certain things, because I'm going to need your help. You know the extra danger you'll be in, what we'll all be in, by knowing what I tell you?"

Fleur held Hermione's hand, and gave it a little squeeze. "I understand, and I understand how serious this is. I've always told you to ask for my help and I will do all in my power to help you. Do you need me for something at Gringotts?"

"No," said Hermione, taking a little breath before adding. "I need you to help me dress...like Bellatrix."

"Dress like...? What do you mean?" asked Fleur.

"I'm going to become her," said Hermione. "I have a hair of her's and we have her wand so I'm going to become her to walk into Gringotts."

"You're going to do _what?!"_ exclaimed Fleur, her pulse racing and her mind going in several directions at once. "You can't do that! It's far too dangerous! It's much worse than going as yourself...it's...you can't..."

"I know it will be dangerous," replied Hermione. "Harry and Griphook will be under his cloak and we're going to disguise Ron, but I'll be leading them as Bellatrix."

"Why?! Why do this even more risky thing? You could be anyone, why can't you be someone else? We could get you a hair of anyone you choose."

"No, it has to be Bellatrix."

"No, Hermione! Don't do this!" said Fleur, feeling her eyes fill with tears; fear was gripping her heart, like a spiked iron vice was around it. "If you are discovered the Death Eaters will strike you down and even some of the Order might try to attack you if they think it's Bellatrix...no, don't do this...please don't do..."

"We have to. We think it might be the only way."

"The only way? There has to be something else?!" Fleur thought frantically. "Don't do this. There has to be an alternative. I don't know why Gringotts is so important anyway? Goblins cannot be trusted!"

"There isn't another way, for what we need to do."

"What is so important there? If you need money, Bill and I can help you?! Oh shit, it's a horcrux, isn't it?"

"I can't tell you what we're looking for, but the reason I need to be Bellatrix, is because we need to get inside her vault. And, no, it's not a horcrux," said Hermione, and she comforted herself in knowing it was the truth, because they honestly didn't know if there definitely was one in Bellatrix's vault. She hoped that was enough for Fleur not to detect the hint of a lie.

"What?!" exclaimed an even more exasperated Fleur. "Break into her vault?!"

"I need you to help me dress like her, to carry off the look more, so we hopefully won't have to break in at all, and...," Hermione paused, momentarily relieved that Fleur hadn't pursued the horcrux thought, and hating to have to say the next bit, but knowing she couldn't avoid it now. "And I'll need your help for the morning after tomorrow; that's when we're leaving."

"NO!" shouted Fleur. "I can't allow it! I can't help you to walk to your death. I...I..."

Hermione wrapped her arms around Fleur, whose cheeks were wet with tears. "I know it's soon, I know it's dangerous, but we have to go. We can't stay here much longer, we have so many things we have to do. Please help me, Fleur."

Fleur stopped a shuddering breath and looked to Hermione. "I can't lose you. I can't see you risk everything like this..."

"I have no real choice," said Hermione, softly. "It's not that much different to when we became Harry all those months ago. You know what this world is like at the moment; we can't let You Know Who win, because there'll be no world for any of us if he does."

Fleur wrapped her arms around Hermione, and held on tightly. "It's a _lot_ more dangerous than what we did for Harry! I've only just found you," she sniffled. "I can't bear the thought of you leaving me in this way. Of not knowing where you are."

"You managed before," said Hermione. "You can do it again."

"That was different. I wasn't sure you even liked me as a friend then, and it was just me thinking about you and worrying. Now? Shit! I can't imagine what it will be like now. Let me go with you?"

"You can't. It wouldn't work and might make things more dangerous for us, for you and for all the Weasleys. You know that, I _know_ you know that."

"Hermione, I love you so much," said Fleur, as she pulled back from their embrace. "And even if you never say it back to me, it won't stop me loving you."

"Then, as you love me, please help me," said Hermione, tears of her own wetting her cheeks now. "I can't bear the thought of leaving here with us not talking or having argued. I need your help to be able to go on and do what I must."

Fleur gave a couple of hitched breaths, but nodded. "Of course I'll help you. If you won't stay with me, then I can't watch you go without having my help."

Hermione held Fleur to her tightly, and she felt something spark within her; she wasn't sure what it was and thought it might be fear, reluctance and sadness about leaving Fleur, and there was something else, a feeling she had never experienced before, but it was nearly overwhelming. Each time she thought about leaving Fleur and Shell Cottage behind, the sensation came over her like a wave. As she hugged the woman, her face close to the woman's neck, which she pressed a soft kiss to, she was aware of the woman's scent and the soft strands of blonde hair tickling her nose, the swell of the woman's breasts against her own. _I think I do love her,_ she thought suddenly, surprising herself, getting a familiar fizzing feeling in her chest, followed by that overwhelming wave spill over her. _It's love...I think it's love. How the hell can it be love? I hardly know her...not_ really... _but...but, I feel in love with her?!_

"I want to stay with you, Fleur," Hermione said, almost in a whisper in Fleur's ear. "I want that more than anything. I don't want to leave you." She had a couple of teary hitched breaths as those sensations threatened to overwhelm her again. "We all have to do things we don't want to."

The two women pulled back to look at each other, and Hermione traced the contours of Fleur's cheek and jawline with her thumb and fingers, wiping away the droplets of tears. "I can only go on because of you, Fleur. I'm only strong enough to go on because of you. Everything feels possible, because of _you_." She leaned in and kissed the blonde woman, slowly and tenderly, her lips tingling.

When they parted, Hermione felt that overwhelming wave of emotion and awareness hit her, and she kissed Fleur again, and guided one of her hands under her T-Shirt to a breast, giving a little gasping noise as she felt the contact. Their tongues were dancing and entangling and slowly Hermione's kiss became more passionate, more urgent. Fleur broke off, almost panting, wanting to slow things down a little. She was going to move her hand from the brunette's breast, but Hermione had such a strong feeling that she got hold of Fleur's hand and slid it down between her legs to hold her mound, albeit through her pyjama bottoms. That action seemed to surprise Fleur more than Hermione, which the latter thought was more strange than the bold act she had taken in the first place.

"We need to stop," said Fleur, taking her hand away, all of her body on fire from such a heightened mess of emotions.

"Why?" said Hermione.

"Everything's too fast, I don't want to rush you into anything."

Smiling, Hermione pressed kisses to Fleur's lips and cheek, before uttering. "You won't be rushing me into anything."

Fleur stopped breathing for a beat. _She can't mean that...she doesn't know what she's saying,_ she thought."I don't want us to do anything you're not ready for...I don't want..."

Hermione spoke over her. "Fleur, I want you. Right now, I want you, and I want you to...no matter what happens...we'll always have...we'll...," she tailed off unable to put into words everything she was thinking.

Another stray tear worked its way down Fleur's flushed cheek as she shut her eyes briefly and exhaled. "Do you know what you're saying?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Only if...well, if you want that with me?" For a moment Hermione had doubts. _Perhaps she doesn't want to go the whole way with me? s_ he thought. _Perhaps she only wanted kisses and cuddles._ "If you don't want to...well...I'm not sure all women want the whole...err...I have no idea what..."

Fleur talked over Hermione this time. " _Want_ that with you? I've only ever dreamed of it. I never ever thought you would ask it of me, or so soon. That's why I want you to be sure, Hermione. I don't want it to be a...a...mistake, a rushed mistake from stress and..."

"That's not what I want either," said Hermione, frowning. "I may not be entirely sure of everything, but I know how I feel and I want you, and I want you to touch me, everywhere. I _want_ you and I _want_ this."

Fleur inhaled and exhaled another ragged breath, from deep emotion and to calm her racing pulse; she slowly nodded her head. "Lie back," she said to Hermione, who did so. Fleur lay beside her, but also so she could lean over her. "Have you ever...you know, made love before?"

Hermione knew she blushed deeply, and shook her head, having to turn her head and take her eyes away from Fleur. "No. When the _hell_ would I ever have...?!" She squeezed her eyes shut, and cut off the angry-sounding sentence, because she was angry with herself for being so pathetic-sounding, not angry with Fleur.

Gently caressing Hermione's cheek, Fleur got Hermione to look back at her, and leaned in to place the softest of kisses to her lips. "Don't be ashamed or embarrassed. It will make it more special for both of us."

"Have you...? I know you have with Bill, but I meant with a woman?"

"Yes," nodded Fleur. "Others with veela blood in the dorms at school, made it impossible to avoid it. Puberty for us can be a little manic! It truly never meant anything, not like you do to me. That was only hormones raging and physical stuff and we knew it at the time, when _you_ touch me you will touch my soul."

"Well, I suppose one of us ought to know what they're doing," said a still embarrassed Hermione, with half a smile.

Fleur gave a little chuckle. "Like everything in your life, I have no doubt you'll be a fast learner."

For several moments, Fleur looked into Hermione's eyes, taking in the dilated pupils, and aware of the shallower rises and falls of Hermione's chest. She never loved a person more, than she did in that moment, as she slowly leaned in and tenderly pressed her lips to Hermione's; a slow exploratory kiss, which felt deeper with meaning than any other kiss they had shared so far. Hermione wrapped her arms around Fleur, sliding a hand through her golden hair, as Fleur kissed her way to Hermione's neck. The older woman pushed up Hermione's T-Shirt and, with the younger woman raising herself slightly the garment was taken off and discarded.

Once lying down again, Fleur lavished Hermione's breasts with attention; showering caresses with her hands and mouth, making Hermione arch her back a little, pushing herself up and into Fleur more. The brunette felt Fleur's silky hair against her bare chest; it felt divine. The blonde woman still wore a T-Shirt and when she realized it she briefly stopped, sat back, and fluidly removed the garment. Hermione moved her hands up to cup Fleur's breasts, mesmerized by the hardening nipples from her touch. As Fleur slowly lowered herself back down, the two women's breasts met in almost perfect symmetry. Hermione had never thought something as simple as that, in this context, could feel so good, and turn her on so much as well. Fleur wasn't new to the experience, but it felt different for her, because every touch, every kiss, every _everything,_ meant a hundred times more than anything in the days before, and immeasurably more than the schoolgirl fumblings at Beauxbatons.

The two women continued to kiss and caress each other, Hermione running her hands up and down Fleur's gorgeously toned back, which was making the inner veela of the woman almost purr with delight. As Fleur worshipped Hermione's breasts more, the younger woman had involuntarily begun to move her hips up into Fleur, every so often. Every tug on a nipple from the skilled mouth of Fleur, feeling as if her mouth was between her legs too. Hermione had begun to give more little moans of pleasure, her skin tingling in every place that Fleur touched or kissed her.

The Frenchwoman sensed how much Hermione was enjoying her touch, and savoured every small utterance of pleasure and every shallow breath. She gradually moved herself so that she was lying between Hermione's legs, having felt the brunette move against her. Her attuned nose could already sense the younger woman's arousal. Once settled, Fleur lightly moved her own hips, pushing against Hermione's groin. After a short time, as Fleur joined her lips to Hermione's again, she moved one of her hands, sliding it down the brunette's side, to the outside of her hip, raising the leg slightly and thrusting herself a bit more certainly into Hermione's mound; the added pressure made Hermione moan into their kiss.

Fleur wanted things to be right, and she gauged how much Hermione was moving against her, feeling her heart beat faster against her, and slowly moved her hand between them and held the younger woman's mound through her pyjama bottoms. Hermione's eyes flew open and she broke from the kiss as her body gave a noticeable jump.

The Frenchwoman looked into the eyes of the one she loved. "Are you okay with this?" Fleur asked, lightly rubbing her hand over the girl's covered crotch, causing Hermione to suck in a breath.

"Yeah," Hermione nearly panted. "It feels...good. Don't...don't take your hand away this time!"

The older woman kissed her partner gently, lightly moving her hips against the back of her hand, knowing the sensations would pass through to Hermione. After a little while, Fleur slowly moved her hand and slipped it inside Hermione's pyjama bottoms; as she slid her fingers through the soft curly hair and and held the younger woman's mound, she lightly slipped a finger into Hermione's intimate folds, immediately finding the evidence of desire her nose had been made aware of earlier; it made them both gasp, and she kissed Hermione again to swallow her moans.

"mm...ing...mm...off!" Hermione muttered around their kiss, and wriggled slightly.

Fleur stopped momentarily, looking at Hermione worriedly, wondering if she had changed her mind. "You want me to take my hand away?"

Hermione took a shakey breath. "No, I want all my...my clothing off. I...I want to feel you properly."

Fleur moved herself and with deft fingers, and the occasional radiant glance back up to Hermione, she removed the younger woman's pyjama bottoms, her eye drawn immediately to the curve of the young woman's hips and the triangle of dark brown hair between her legs, and seeing the woman like this only confirmed what she already knew: Hermione was beautiful. Although her veela senses were more delicate to certain things, Fleur knew she didn't need to have veela blood to smell Hermione's arousal for her now. In one swift action, Fleur took off her own pyjama bottoms, before moving up the bed again, resting between Hermione's legs and putting her weight through her arms she looked down at Hermione, as their breasts lightly touched. The brunette looked back up at Fleur, with desire but also with something different: it might have been fear.

As she looked up at Fleur, taking in the beauty of the woman, Hermione felt suddenly lost and apprehensive. _I've never done this,_ she thought. _What should I be thinking or doing? This means everything changes, this is like closing the door on one part of my life and opening another...except I won't be here in just over a day..._

"Hermione?" questioned Fleur in a very soft voice.

"Yes."

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes," said Hermione without hesitation. "It's...I'm nervous...I...don't know what to..." She had to look away from Fleur then, her cheeks feeling hot.

Fleur cupped Hermione's cheek with her hand. "I understand," she said as she stroked the woman's cheek. "It's normal to feel nervous. I do too."

"You do?"

"Yes," said Fleur, giving a warm smile. "This is the first time I get to make love with the person I truly love."

"Oh," said Hermione, more in a deep breath of emotion, than voicing the word.

Fleur lowered her head and ever so gently nibbled a kiss at Hermione's lips, lightly tugging the girl's bottom lip. "Don't be scared. It's just me. All I want to do is _love_ you."

They kissed again and Fleur moved her hand slowly down the side of Hermione's body, briefly caressing the side of her breast, the curves of her waist and hip, before sliding the hand between them to hold Hermione's mound again, dipping a finger gently lower to press against the woman's clit.

Hermione had that feeling of sherbet fizzing within her, except it also seemed to be behind her eyes too, as she had to close them and sigh from what she was feeling. Her body had jumped up into Fleur's hand, and her hips had made tiny movements to feel more, against that gently questing finger.

After a few moments, as Fleur continued to kiss Hermione, she moved her hand lower and let her fingers explore the length of Hermione's womanhood, sliding up and down the moist folds, momentarily entering the girl with the tip of her finger, before finding her way back to the girl's hard bundle of nerves. They broke from their kissing, and Fleur watched Hermione's face as she began to rub slow circles around the nub, causing the brunette to whimper and move her hips, her hand around Fleur's back, gripping and holding her.

Fleur pressed some light soft kisses to Hermione's cheek, as she whispered some words of endearment; some were in French, some in English, but Hermione understood them all. The blonde woman had gradually increased the pace of her fingers and wanted to be inside Hermione badly and tease out her release, but she could still detect nervousness in the younger woman and that she was holding herself a little more rigidly.

Pressing some kisses to Hermione's cheek and neck, Fleur slowed her fingers to more deliberate slower strokes. "Relax, my love," she said, in a hushed whisper. "Let yourself relax, let yourself feel. You're so wet for me, as I am for you...," she continued, speaking in soothing, sexy tones as her fingers almost coaxed Hermione now. She felt the brunette relax more nearly straight away, and gently Fleur lowered her fingers and with very little resistance she pushed her middle finger inside Hermione.

Hermione had never felt anything like it, and it was nothing like the times she had tried it herself. She could feel her inner walls grab at Fleur's finger and she gasped at the sensations from it, one of her hands grabbing hold of Fleur's arm.

Leaving her finger still for a moment or two, Fleur left her thumb on Hermione's clit, rubbing back and forth across it; when she knew Hermione was more accustomed to the feeling she began to slowly slide her finger in and out. Every moment that passed, Hermione gave herself over to just feeling what Fleur was doing to her. Her whole body was feeling more relaxed, but as if it was waiting for something, like an athlete sprinter waiting for the starter's pistol, to spring off the starting blocks.

"I want more of you," Hermione suddenly said, wanting to feel fuller.

Gently Fleur added a second finger, and with ease she set a steady pace, Hermione moving her hips to meet each thrust. Hermione could feel her climax building; a fluttering, burning and tugging feeling low down in her abdomen, she grinded herself against Fleur's hand more, panting and uttering noises she wouldn't have thought she was capable of making.

Fleur knew that her lover's release was close, she was so heightened with arousal and emotions herself that she knew she was close too. She moved so she straddled Hermione's thigh, and thrust against it. Both of them we're breathing heavily, their insides feeling about to burst.

"Let go, my darling," said Fleur. "Come for me, now...that's it...let go..."

Hermione didn't need much prompting and felt her climax rip through her, her whole body shaking and tingling, but all for good reasons and nothing to do with Bellatrix. Her inner walls held Fleur and grabbed at her fingers, her hips flinching, a warm flushed feeling spreading from her face to her chest, and all she could do was hang on for the ride and whimper and pant as she experienced every glorious part.

As she watched the woman she loved reach her peak, Fleur felt her insides flinch and let go, taking her into that same abyss herself, with no extra attention needed. To experience that moment, to finally make love to Hermione, was as strong an emotion as any physical feeling she could imagine. She lay back down beside Hermione, but still straddling her thigh slightly, and still with her fingers deep inside the brunette; she pressed soft soothing kisses to the younger woman's chest and shoulder near to where she lay her head, looking up, watching her.

Several silent minutes passed, maybe ten or more, before they both seemed to be over their initial nearly unconscious state. Fleur kissed a soft trail from Hermione's breast, up her neck and finished with a gentle kiss to her lips.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" asked Fleur, breaking the long silence. Hermione gave a little smile and nodded. "You're so beautiful."

Hermione sighed, and took another breath. " _You're_ beautiful Fleur. I've never felt like this before. I never knew it would feel so good."

Fleur kissed Hermione again, feeling how the younger woman was noticeably more relaxed. "I didn't hurt you at all, did I?" she wondered, concerned for a moment. "I got you to relax more in the hope I wouldn't."

"I'm fine," said Hermione, then she gasped as her inner walls spasmed and she became aware that Fleur's fingers were still inside her. "Oh!? You're..."

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Hermione said, in nearly a pant, followed by a chuckle and a blush. "This will sound so...well...dirty of me, but, I like the feel of you inside me. It's incredible." As if to give proof of that, her inner walls grabbed at Fleur's fingers again. "Sorry," said an embarrassed Hermione.

Fleur smiled warmly. "Hey, don't be sorry, or embarrassed." She leaned down and kissed her way to an ear before whispering. "I love being inside you, Hermione. I can feel you like it too. You're getting wet for me again, aren't you?" As the younger woman shuddered with want from Fleur's words, the blonde woman wiggled her fingers slightly, and slowly and gently curled them, and rubbed at the inner wall of Hermione.

"Oh...shit!" said Hermione, already feeling a familiar pressure building within her: not quite there, but within touching distance. "This isn't fair!"

"What isn't?" asked Fleur, as she kept to her tortuous gentle strokes with her fingers.

"Me..you're...well...seeing to me again and you haven't...you know?"

"I have," said Fleur. "I came just after you."

"Yes, but I...I...I didn't...do it!"

"I can't just stop what I'm doing, now!?" said Fleur with a laugh.

"Hmm...maybe not," said Hermione, and boldly she moved her hand down Fleur's body.

As soon as Fleur realized what the younger girl meant, she moved to lie on her side beside Hermione, her fingers still inside the girl, and opened her own legs a little; Hermione soon caught on and moved a hand down Fleur's body and rested it between the blonde woman's legs, enjoying how the dark blond pubic hair felt against her fingers and how wet Fleur was for her. Once more, they both sighed at the contact between them and Hermione had no trouble with any anatomical problems she thought she might have had. Fleur's body made it abundantly clear it was waiting for Hermione's touch and as Hermione explored with her fingers she easily found and entered Fleur. The brunette copied Fleur and curled her fingers inside her and rubbed at the spongy inner wall, caressing her g-spot.

"Is this okay?" asked Hermione.

"VERY okay!" said Fleur, briefly closing her eyes and giving a noise which was half groan and half pant. "I told you you'd be a quick...oh shit...learner!" The Frenchwoman rolled her hips, riding Hermione's hand, as she kept her own fingers moving within Hermione.

"I'm close," Hermione said a few moments later. "I'm going to...you know, really soon. Are you near?"

"Yes...hmm...don't worry if we don't together...," Fleur panted and then gave a breathy laugh. "...this is just magical, anyway!"

That confession from Fleur seemed to relax Hermione even more and make her feel more confident with herself and wanting nothing more than to give Fleur pleasure; to give her the pleasure she had felt herself a short time before.

"I can feel you coming," said Fleur, instinctively knowing what Hermione's body was telling her. "I love you so much. I hope you can feel how much I love you," she said, as she felt the veela blood within her want to envelop Hermione in an enchanted embrace and hold her forever, but she was slightly embarrassed that it had made her talk in such a sappy way. Fleur could feel she was close herself, the mere thought of Hermione actually inside her was nearly enough and she knew she wouldn't be far behind once Hermione went over the edge again.

Hermione felt touched, more than just physically; she had never felt this way before, neither physically nor psychologically. Something was different and more certain; something was different and more certain in the same way and reaching a pinnacle of realization at the same time and with everything she had experienced, and _was_ experiencing, she had that overwhelming sensation roll over her, and with no hesitation and no need for thoughts and time to evaluate things, Hermione leaned forward and kissed Fleur, lips meeting lips, and when she pulled back a little again she simply said, and meant every word. "I love you, Fleur."

Something happened within them both, and as Fleur captured Hermione's lips again they both reached their climax at the same time, both having to break the kiss to breathe and ride out the waves of pleasure. A few minutes later when they both had their breathing under control and their bodies had relaxed, the two women held each other.

"Hermione?" said Fleur. She wanted to ask the young woman something, to make sure she _had_ heard what she thought she had heard, because it would bother her until she knew. "Do you know what you said?"

Hermione smiled and looked back into Fleur's eyes as they lay side by side. "I said: I love you."

"That's what I thought I..."

"And I mean it. I love you, Fleur," Hermione repeated, that familiar fizzing feeling in her chest.

It brought tears to Fleur's eyes, and that in turn made Hermione feel emotional. "I never ever thought I'd hear you say _that_ ," said Fleur, as a tear worked its way from the corner of her eye, sliding down to the pillow.

"I _do_ love you, Fleur, " said Hermione, as she wrapped an arm around Fleur and moved them so the older woman was resting her head on the younger woman's chest, as she was being comforted. "It's not something I thought I'd ever say, and things have happened so fast, but I've never been more certain of anything. I _know_ how I feel."

"You've made me so happy," said Fleur. "You have given me so many gifts. I just wish you didn't have to leave me."

Hermione's own tears fell then. "I wish I didn't have to either, but we both know I _do_ have to go, and why. I feel so much stronger because of us; and what we've shared together will give me so much strength." She held Fleur more to her and whispered. "My Fleur-de-lis."

"What?" said Fleur.

"What?"

"What did you call me?"

"Oh...I don't know where it came from. You...you are my...err...flower, and I've always been aware that your smell like lily-of-the-valley, so I guess it kind of garbled out of my mouth, about flowers and and being French...err...sorry...I won't say it again, if you don't like it."

"Like it?" said Fleur. "When you said that, it made me have what you English call goosebumps, which was odd...but I liked it."

Hermione kissed the top of Fleur's head. "You're my Fleur-de-lis, and always will be." She actually felt Fleur give a tiny shiver that time. "I thought _I_ was the one trying to stop shivering, not pass it on to someone else?!"

Fleur laughed. "Sorry, I can't help it. Everything has happened so fast between us and my _everything_ is a bit sensitive with my emotions."

"Do you think having veela blood makes it all more intense?" asked an interested Hermione.

"I think so," said Fleur. "We're never sure which parts of that I have inherited."

"Well, as long as I wasn't so bad in bed that you didn't feel anything," said Hermione, a touch insecure.

Fleur noticed the tone straight away and propped herself up to look Hermione in the eye. "You were not bad in bed! You...you made me come twice, and the first time you didn't have to do much except be here! Feel anything? Shit! You overloaded my body with feeling!" Fleur said with a little laugh, then gave Hermione a firm kiss. "Never worry about that part, you have nothing to worry about, my lover."

"Lover?" Hermione questioned, then chuckled. "I suppose I _am_ your lover now. It's seems so strange to think of myself as a lover."

"I'm incredibly lucky that you're _my_ lover and no one else's," said Fleur adamantly. After a minute or so silence she said, "I can't believe I only have another day with you."

"I know," said Hermione, sighing. "I wish it were different, even more so now, but it's how it has to be."

"I suppose...," said a very down-sounding Fleur as she thought about being in love with Hermione, how that felt, and the very few things her grandmother had ever told her about love for veelas. "I think some part of me will be with you, in spirit. And has always been."

"It will be, I'll take you with me in my heart," said Hermione, who then made a noise of scorn at herself. "Yeah, laugh at me for just saying one of the most sickly, clichéd things ever!"

"I won't laugh, because I'm sure it's true, in some way," replied Fleur. "You know, since you've been here I've become more and more attuned to how you are feeling. It started with me seeming to know when you were awake or had just dreamed or experienced some bad sensations. Other things have been coming through to me since and now I remember a part of veela lore. I say, 'lore', it's not written down or a certainty, but it is something my Grandmother said to me, although I'm sure she didn't tell me everything at the time."

"In relation to friends or lovers?" asked an intrigued Hermione.

"Lovers," answered Fleur. "From what I could understand, I think a connection is made with the people we love, and that allows us to help protect them, providing we are near to them. I'm thinking that now we've made love, that the connection must be stronger. I think that's what she meant about some things."

"It's possible," considered Hermione. "I'm sorry to say I don't know much about veelas...yet."

"Neither do I, really," admitted Fleur. "I've never thought about much of it and accepted the things I can and can't do, or feel. I'm sure that's what my Grandmother was trying to say one time about lovers being connected, though. I'm...I'm..."

"You're...?" asked Hermione, wondering what else might be said.

"And I'm not sure how I'm going to deal with us being apart," admitted Fleur. "I imagine there will be many uncertain moments to come. But I have a feeling I'll know if you're afraid or in pain...or...any number of sensations."

"That does make things more difficult," said Hermione. "I can't change my road ahead, though. Somehow you'll deal with it; you're an amazing woman, and you'll find a way to accept whatever it is you feel while I'm gone. I expect the Order will keep you busy too."

"Yes...yes, I'll have to manage," said Fleur, resignedly. "What else can I do?!"

"You can be there when it's all over," offered Hermione, hopefully. "Be there when we can be together again and get to know each other without all this life and death stress."

"That is something I want more than anything," said Fleur as she rose up to kiss Hermione. "And now we should sleep a few of hours before the morning disturbs us."

The two women fell into a dreamless, calm sleep and it was eight o'clock in the morning when they woke up to a lighter room. Both of them were still close together, with Hermione resting her head on Fleur's shoulder. The blonde woman had awoken slightly before Hermione and it took her several attempts to believe what had happened during the night. She was aware that both of them were still naked under the quilt and that Hermione's breasts were pressed up against her.

 _This is some strange dream, and I'm going to wake up!_ thought Fleur. _Or maybe I've been trapped in an alternate universe and the real Hermione in my own world still dislikes me?!_ She gave a soft chortling laugh, and Hermione stirred.

"Hmm...wh...what's funny?" said Hermione, blinking open her eyes.

"Us," answered Fleur.

"Us?" asked Hermione, rubbing her eyes a little.

"Yes, us, and the strange journey we've been on, which only got stranger in a beautifully marvellous way last night," said Fleur, as she lightly trailed a hand from Hermione's shoulder down to cup her breast.

"Oh...that," said Hermione, with realization, taking a breath in reaction to being touched.

"It wasn't some weird dream, or...," Fleur wondered on something else and took her hand away. "Or...something you regret as a nightmare?"

"Nightmare? Fleur I don't do things on whims or...or drunken loopy decisions. I slept with you last night because I wanted to, needed to and it was completely right to...well, except the part about you being a married woman and us sleeping in your marital bed, with your husband downstairs, even though that has a reasonable, but complicated situation of acceptance...BUT, the point is, I don't regret a moment of it!" All the night's memories came crashing back to Hermione, and she moved to lean over Fleur and kissed her, loving how their bare breasts touched again.

Fleur wrapped her arms around Hermione and rolled her completely on top of her, settling her between her thighs, sliding her hands down to hold firm buttocks and push Hermione down on to her more. As they kissed they both made some little satisfied noises, glad once again for the silencing and locking charms Fleur had been using on the room since the first night Hermione arrived.

Hermione found herself pushing her pelvis down into Fleur and very soon nearly thrusting into her, their mounds meeting, with Hermione able to feel her lover's wetness, knowing she was in a similar state herself. She adjusted her position slightly, so that she was causing friction both to Fleur and herself, and rather than thrusting, she adopted a more grinding action, which allowed her to feel like she was rubbing her clit against Fleur's. Hermione continued to kiss Fleur, breaking off to take a breath and to moan, feeling so close to going over the edge, and seeing and feeling and hoping Fleur was at the same stage, Hermione moved back a little, concentrating everything on how their mounds were meeting and rubbing together. She cupped Fleur's breasts and tweaked her nipples, rubbed her thumbs and fingers over them, lightly pinched them, and then felt her own receiving the same treatment. Hermione felt Fleur rubbing herself up at her more firmly and faster, and in moments they were both panting and calling out the other's name as they pushed each other over the edge.

Nearly collapsing on top of Fleur, Hermione still moved her hips slightly, loving every delicious moment of the climax her throbbing groin had experienced. Fleur had her arms around her, both of them were breathing heavily and a light sheen of sweat covered them.

"Fuck!" Fleur exclaimed, in a laughing exhaled breath a few moments later.

"Yeah," said Hermione, feeling mildly embarrassed. "I...err...don't know what came over me."

Fleur burst out laughing. "I think I did! I certainly came anyway!"

Hermione's cheeks turned another shade of crimson, but she laughed too. "You know what I mean. I never realized I could be...be..."

"So horny in the morning?" suggested Fleur, laughing.

"Well...if you want to put it that way...yes," said Hermione, giving up on trying to stop herself blushing more.

"I don't mind having to deal with it," said Fleur with a smirk. "A very nice way to wake up, in fact."

"It was...um...very nice."

"I hate to say it," said Fleur, more seriously. "We'll have to soon get up and go down for breakfast."

"I suppose we will. I have things I need to check on," said Hermione glumly. She rolled off Fleur, reluctantly and sat on the side of the bed.

Fleur moved up behind Hermione, and wrapped her arms around the brunette, feeling her rest back into her embrace. "It's not something I want to do either," she said, as she placed a soft kiss to the back of Hermione's shoulder and moved a hand around the front to cup a breast. She moved her head forward and whispered in the younger woman's ear. "I love you so much, and I'd much rather stay here in this room..." She paused as she slid a hand down between Hermione's legs. "...and give you pleasure; make you come again and again and hear you say my name as you come."

Hermione shuddered and let out a gasping sigh as Fleur's fingers gently caressed her still sensitive nether lips and aching centre. "Shit," was all Hermione could utter.

As much as she wanted to carry on and do as she wished, Fleur knew they couldn't and they had to be getting up and making an appearance downstairs. She revelled in feeling Hermione's desire for her and she slowly dragged her fingers away. "I'm sorry for doing that," she whispered, softly. "I wanted to feel you again. I don't like to tease. Maybe...maybe tonight we can finish that."

Hermione turned in Fleur's embrace and kissed her. "I hope so!"

Both of them hated to start the day, knowing that to start it meant that the end was closer and Hermione's leaving was closer, but they both knew the reality of things and pragmatically got on with their day, both quickly showering and dressing.

Fleur knew one thing to be true, other than knowing that they both loved each other, she knew from the moment Hermione left the next morning, that she would ache for the young woman. Her veela heart would ache until they could be together again. Fleur, hoped, and in her heart knew, that she and Hermione would meet again in some way, and that they both had a lot of things to do, and to accomplish, in the coming weeks.


	7. Last Day

7: Last Day

Hermione couldn't help but feel different as she sat eating her breakfast with the others. Harry and Ron had asked how she had slept, and it took all of her resolve to answer normally and not splutter or let her mind drift to what had happened overnight. She was glad that Fleur hadn't sat near her, because she wasn't sure she could hide how she was feeling about the blonde woman if their legs were touching under the table, or their hands touched when reaching for the jam pot. _Her delicate fingers brushing my skin...NOOOOO!_ Hermione thought suddenly as her mind wandered. _Stop thinking about it!_

In no time at all Hermione was rescued from her dangerous thoughts, when she went with Harry and Ron to talk to Griphook, to finalize a time to set off the next day. But that only made Hermione feel nauseous, knowing how close their departure was now, and she knew a lot of it had nothing to do with the nerves of apprehension, and had a lot to do with her heart and body not wanting to leave Fleur.

The departure time to leave Shell Cottage was set at seven o'clock in the morning and Disapparating to a place not far from the cottage for a short time before going to Knockturn Alley, and from there to Gringotts, by which time the bank should be open and starting the day's business.

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat on one of the stone garden walls at Shell Cottage, getting a little sun and taking advantage of the safehouse status the house had, for what time they had left there.

"You're still okay about becoming her?" asked Ron.

"I'm not sure I'll ever be totally 'okay' with it," replied Hermione. "I'm prepared for it, though, and that will have to do."

"Did you tell Fleur anything?" asked Harry.

 _Concentrate!_ thought Hermione, wanting to play it as casually as possible, but remembering what had happened after she had told Fleur. "Yes, I told her only what she needed to know. She doesn't know what we're looking for, but as you can imagine she tried to talk me out of it; she doesn't like anything we're planning to do and warned me about goblins."

"Yeah, I can't imagine anyone would think we're sane in trying to do what _we'll_ be doing," said Ron.

"There's no other way!" said Harry, defensively.

"I know, mate," said Ron. "I'm not having a go at you. We're in this together, but I'm not sure anyone, other than maybe Dumbledore, would understand what we're doing."

"Ron's right," said Hermione. "We're the only ones who know what's at stake here. Griphook might suspect something deeper, but he's so obsessed with the sword it doesn't matter."

"Will Fleur help you prepare?" asked Ron.

"Yes," said Hermione, still guarding her real feelings. "Despite everything, she'll help."

"We ought to make the most of today," said Harry. "Gather up everything we need and be packed ready, but try to make the most of the safety, because I don't think we'll get much guarantee of it after today."

Fleur had been with Bill in the house, cleaning up the kitchen and sorting through the laundry with him. Not being able to attend regular work, for a variety of reasons, the pair of them had found the urge to take on household chores, to fill their time and keep their minds busy. Even without the development of her relationship with Hermione, Fleur had had both the young woman's and Mr. Ollivander's health to take care of and that had kept her more than occupied, but at times like these there were always lulls in activity. Dean and Luna had helped around the house and with looking after the wandmaker and the goblin, with Luna being perhaps the only person in the house not unnerved by Griphook, it was more than likely the case that _she_ unnerved _him_.

That morning Luna had taken Mr. Ollivander his breakfast and had gone back to talk with him. Bill had sent Dean on a trip into town for some groceries, as he was the least likely of them all to be recognized in a muggle setting and knew how to act like a muggle too; even so they dressed him differently to how he might normally dress.

Bill was folding up clean sheets for Mr. Ollivander's bed, and he looked to Fleur, who was placing the plates and bowls from breakfast back into the kitchen cupboards. She was making a lot of noise and banging the cupboard doors more than normal; he sensed she was tense about something, and also _intense_ about something too.

"What's wrong?" asked Bill.

"Hmm?"

"You're upset about something, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Fleur said as she nearly slammed the cutlery drawer shut. "Nothing different to normal."

Bill put down the sheets he had been folding and stood beside her and took her hand in his. "I know something's wrong. Is it Hermione?"

"It's something I'm going to have to accept, because I can't change it."

The answer had confused Bill slightly, because Fleur still smelled of Hermione and eariler Hermione still smelled of Fleur, and it was more than just passing scents on to each other from sharing a sweater. He had smelled sexual desire again. "I don't understand, has she changed her mind?"

"I wish she _would_ change her mind!" Fleur blurted out.

"Err...have you had a fight? Or..."

Fleur couldn't help but smile at Bill, because at that moment she felt she didn't deserve to have him as her husband, despite how their marriage was almost null and void; she felt blessed that he was still her friend.

"No, we haven't had a fight...not...well, not about us," said Fleur. "I...I don't like her course of action."

Bill looked around to make sure they were alone in the kitchen. "You mean Gringotts?"

"I can't tell you anything more BIll, not just because she asked me not to, but it's safer you don't know."

"I _know_ it's Gringotts, Fleur. You know I guessed as much the other day. AND they're still talking a lot with that bloody goblin. I don't think they've created a Griphook 'appreciation society'!?" Bill said with humour, then he went serious again. "You tried to talk her out of if?"

"Of course I did!"

"I'm guessing that you want her to stay here, regardless of whether Ron and Harry stay too, or not?"

Fleur had the grace to look ashamed. "It's...it's awful of me...it's..."

"It's that veela blood of yours again, isn't it?" said Bill. He wasn't making fun of her, but he gave her a warm smile and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Even without veela blood complicating things, it's natural to want to keep your loved ones safe, to protect them. Don't feel badly about wanting that for Hermione and for your own reasons."

"I don't know what's going to happen...how I will deal with it. I can't bear the thought of being apart from her."

"We're going to manage; that's what we're going to do and all we _can_ do," Bill answered. "You'll still have me around, if you want me, and we'll be doing all we can for the Order, like Hermione and the others are working hard with their tasks."

"Want you? Bill, despite everything, I still love you, you're still my best friend," said Fleur, trying hard not to shed any tears. "And I know you speak sense, and I've been through some of it with Hermione too...it's...it's going to be so hard."

"Life often is," said Bill, stoically. "Make the most of today and tomorrow, because I have this feeling they might be leaving soon."

"They are," said Fleur, before lowering her voice to nearly a whisper. "I know no more than it being tomorrow morning, but please don't show that you know and that I told you that."

"I can work on Ron, make out I've guessed," said Bill. "I only hope that goblin git doesn't double-cross them."

"Shit! I hope he doesn't." Fleur hugged Bill. "Thank you."

Bill hugged his wife back and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "We're going to be fine. I have to believe that, or there's no point going on, and I happen to think there _is_ a point to it."

"Yes, yes, you're right."

"I'd better go and take these clean sheets up for Ollivander's bed," said Bill.

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful, except for Griphook complaining about his lunch and dinner and asking if they had something else; they all ignored his complaints. Hermione couldn't avoid meeting Fleur's gaze across the table, and feeling her chest nearly lurch with feeling, she had to look away for fear of blushing or staring longer than was normal. She had spent much of the day trying hard not to think about what they had shared, but her body was literally tingling with a resonation of deep want for the touch of Fleur.

Once or twice Hermione could feel Fleur looking at her at dinner, she could sense it like she always had done, and felt amused by her thoughts on Fleur being part-basilisk, in a time which seemed an age ago. All Hermione could think about was kissing the blonde woman, touching her, inhaling her scent, feeling her touch back and the joys of making love with her; despite the potential for it making her blush, it actually made the stress and apprehension of leaving and about the tasks ahead, go away, just for a little while. It was an internal battle of where her thoughts could safely reside.

During the day Hermione had placed the polyjuice potion flask on the chest of drawers in the bedroom upstairs and also laid out on the armchair in the room, the dress she was going to wear to look like Bellatrix, which they had found at Grimmauld Place a long time ago. Leaving those items of business behind in the bedroom made her feel able to nearly forget about them for the rest of the day, knowing she wouldn't truly have to face them until the night and then the following morning.

Bill had been very aware of the emotions between his wife and Hermione all day, and despite an initial rise of jealousy, which he soon talked himself out of, he wanted to laugh. He thought if a thermometer was placed between the two women across the table that the gauge would burst off. He actually considered any scientific or magical instrument was in danger of breaking if placed between the two women, such was the tension of emotion and desire between them. He cared too much for Fleur and how she might be when the younger woman left, to give in to his own empty hopelessness and envy, and deep down he truly wanted her to have as much time with Hermione as was possible.

It was Hermione and Luna's turn to do the dishes and with just Fleur left at the table, and Dean, Ron and Harry off to the sitting room to play some wizard chess, he said in a low voice. "You need some time with her: have an early night."

"What?" asked Fleur. Her mind was miles away, searching for blank calmness, trying to relax and take herself away to that imaginary field in the sun, touching her hand to the long grasses, where the cares of the world couldn't reach her. In her relaxation world she had just discovered that the building she had wanted to explore before, looked almost like an ancient barn or maybe a church, and although not religious, she thought it might be one of the many tiny French chapels and churches in her home landscape and she felt calmed by it, even though it was laced with a touch of homesickness. Before Bill's words had broken her concentration she had walked to the doorway and peered in; the inside looked more like an empty small barn, but she was left feeling so at home, and so safe and warm inside. If there was another time to use it, she thought she would teach Hermione to imagine that place too, so she could find it herself when she needed calm in the coming weeks, when she would be by herself and the two boys.

"You and Hermione," said Bill, nearly in a whisper. "Have an early night, spend some time together."

"It will look odd if we both sneak off," said Fleur in a weary voice, wishing she didn't have a house full of fugitives.

"Suggest it to her, I'm sure she'll want an early night to be ready for tomorrow, anyway."

"How is it you're trying to push us together? This must be hurting you so badly?" asked a concerned Fleur.

"It does hurt," admitted Bill. "But we know how things are, and I want you to be happy and in this world at the moment, those times are very few and far between."

"I don't deserve you," said Fleur sadly.

"I suppose technically, you don't have me, despite the rings on our fingers," said Bill, although he said it with a smile. "Whatever the case, take the time while you have it."

Fleur felt a nervous excitement, laced with a little fear. She couldn't wait to get Hermione alone, her body had been nearly itching to be near to the younger woman again all day; yet she knew that the night made their parting that much closer too. She thought of an excuse for the two of them not to almost rush up the stairs together, and picked up some clean sheets for the bed. The sheets needed changing tomorrow anyway. As Fleur walked into the kitchen, with the sheets under her arm, she found Hermione and Luna nearly finished with the dishes from dinner.

"...I don't know how you can know that, Luna?" Hermione said, as she bent down to put some plates into a cupboard.

"Well," the blonde Ravenclaw replied. "It's written in some of the old books my mother had."

"Really? I wasn't aware much had been written down?"

Fleur smiled as she viewed the two younger girls, obviously debating some historical or magical fact; she also smiled as she watched Hermione's backside as she bent over at the cupboards, admiring the brunette's hips and bum through her jeans.

"I say 'books'," said Luna, dreamily. "They're journals, written by an ancestor of mine who spent several months at various times living with some veelas."

"What?!" said Fleur, suddenly pulled out of her observing.

"OW!" Hermione, startled by Fleur's voice, had risen from the cupboard and hit her head on the open upper door of the cupboard.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump," said Fleur, as she went to Hermione, having to stop herself from hugging her, or kissing the top of her head, and having to resort to merely placing a friendly hand on her shoulder. Her hand felt abnormally warm from doing that and she had to take a breath, and make it sound like a normal sigh, removing her hand. It was the first time since the morning that she had touched Hermione in any way and it was unexpectedly sensual and powerful. "Err, Luna you said something about veelas?"

"What?! Oh, yes," Luna said, looking from Fleur to Hermione and back again, tilting her head on one side as one might look at a work of art in a gallery, trying to decide what the picture actually said. "Yes, my mother's ancestor spent time with some veelas. Quite a lot of time, in fact."

Hermione had noticed the way Luna looked at her and took a half step away from Fleur, the Frenchwoman doing the same, and both trying to remain focused on what Luna said.

"I only caught some of your conversation," said Fleur, feeling a degree or two warmer. "Was it some fact you were debating about veela lore?"

"My ancestor wrote that most veelas can feel connected to every other veela that has gone before in their lineage. So a veela would know things, and have talents from a Great Great Great Grandmother."

Hermione tried to concentrate on Luna and what was being said, and tried to forget that her shoulder tingled where Fleur's hand had been, so much so that she'd felt her nipples harden too. _Oh for heaven's sake,_ Hermione thought. _Stop thinking about sex! I know I can think of nothing else since this morning, but I have to focus on something else!_

"The same could be said of anyone," said Hermione. "Even muggles. A bit like an ancestor being a good musician, and even if it jumped a generation or two, then you'd still find other musicians eventually."

"I agree with that," said Luna. "What I'm talking about is more than that. The veela would know things that an ancestor knew, have memories of things other veela ancestors saw, that kind of thing."

"I think I understand," said Fleur. "So if my Great Great Great Grandmother was present at the French Revolution and saw something horrific, then I might be aware of that and remember it in some way?"

"Yes," said Luna, her eyes lighting up. "That's exactly it!"

"I haven't been aware of that kind of thing," said Fleur, flatly.

"Maybe it's because you're not a full veela?" suggested Hermione, as she too understood what Luna was saying.

"True," said Fleur. "Luna, I would love to read those journals you have. Do you think I might see them one day?"

"Why, of course!" said Luna. "They're as much your heritage as mine. You'll have to come over for tea."

"I suspect it won't be for a while," said Fleur, brought back to the present. "If we all get through this, I'll definitely take you up on the offer of tea."

 _No, Fleur!_ thought Hermione, only just stopping herself from blurting it out loud. _There are many things in this life that are incredibly harrowing to experience and one of them is the Lovegood's tea! Don't do it!_

"I believe Ron was going to teach me some better opening moves in chess," said Luna. "I know every opening move there is, but I think I'd still like to see which ones he claims are the strongest. You can come and learn too, Hermione, if you want?"

"I'm not really into chess," answered Hermione. "But you go ahead, you never know if Ron will be this helpful ever again!" Luna wandered off in the direction of the sitting room, leaving Fleur and Hermione alone in the kitchen.

"I'm so sorry about your head," said Fleur.

"That's the least of it," said Hermione. "Did you see the way she looked at us? It's like she knows."

"Yes, I noticed," said Fleur. "I can't worry about it. I just wanted to say that I'm..."

"Hermione?!" called Ron's voice.

"What the hell does he want?" said Hermione quietly. "I'll be there in a moment!" she called back. "Sorry, Fleur, what did you want to tell me?"

Fleur checked the kitchen around her and briefly listened for any approaching footsteps, before she leaned in close to Hermione, her lips close to the brunette's ear. "I'm having an early night, I want you to share it with me."

"Hermione?!" the voice called again.

Fleur jumped back as she heard footsteps, followed by Ron trampling into the kitchen. Hermione tried her hardest not to look guilty, even though she knew that it might actually make her look _more_ guilty.

"What are you doing in here?" asked Ron.

"We were talking about...things," said Hermione. "You know... _things_."

"Tomorrow, you mean?" asked Ron.

"Of course tomorrow!" Hermione said, close to snapping at him. "Anyway, what did you want, I thought you were training Luna in chess openings?"

"Harry wants a quick word with us. I've set up Luna to play chess with Dean for now; Harry wanted a last word...before...everything."

"I'll takes these upstairs," said Fleur, gesturing to the sheets still under her arm. She walked past Ron and turned, giving Hermione a staring look, which said she hoped the brunette would follow soon.

Hermione gave a faint nod, then gave her attention back to Ron. "What does he want now? We know what we're all doing!?"

"I think he just wants a last confirmation from you about becoming...you know... _her,_ " said Ron, as they walked through to the sitting room, to the opposite side to where Dean and Luna were playing chess.

"All right, Hermione?" Harry asked, a touch of nervousness in his voice. They used their usual _Muffliato_ charm so the others couldn't hear what they said. The rest of the house were used to this now and accepted it.

"Yes, I'm fine, and I'm fine with everything for tomorrow," said Hermione, wearily.

"Good...good, well...I...err...," Harry struggled to find any words.

"We've planned everything as much as we can," said Hermione. "A lot of it we won't know until we're there in the situation. We all know what we're doing up to that point, so let's just stick to it."

"Yeah," said Harry. "I...well..."

"What?" asked Hermione, impatience entering her voice.

"I...err...wanted to give you the chance to back out," said Harry. "Ron said he'd be 'her' if you didn't want to, or couldn't face it."

Hermione looked to Ron, who blushed faintly and looked sheepish; she then snorted with laughter. "That wouldn't work at all!"

"Why? As far as I can see, you act like a right nutter and look at people as though you want them all dead. I could do it," said Ron. "I'd do it if you can't face it, because we'd understand if you changed your mind."

Hermione stopped her chuckling and saw the sincerity in Ron's face: he meant it; he would become Bellatrix if he had to. It made her feel guilty again. "No, it's okay, I'll do it. Thanks for the offer," she added gratefully to Ron, "...but I'll do it. I'll be more convincing out of the three of us."

"It can't be that hard to act like a psychotic woman?!" offered Ron. "And after all, you and Fleur became Harry all those months ago...not that he's a psychotic woman...but this gender-bending thing isn't exclusive."

"I agree with you, but we didn't have to do anything as Harry, other than ride with our Order member and just look and be dressed like him. I'm sure you could look like Bellatrix and maybe even walk and do her mannerisms, but the problem would be the moment someone talks to you," said Hermione.

"You think I'd balls it up and say something stupid?" asked a mildly annoyed Ron.

"No," said Hermione. _Although, that's always a possibility,_ she thought, truthfully. "But the moment you spoke it would be obvious you're a male, and the last time I...I... _heard_ the woman she didn't have a deep voice. Not even the slightest cigarette-induced husky tone. And if you tried to do an impression of her voice, using a higher pitch of your voice, it would immediately sound fake."

"She's right," said Harry. "And it's likely she'll have to talk to someone somewhere."

"I didn't think of that," said Ron, appeased. "I still would have done it, though...or at least tried."

"Thanks, but I'll do this. We'll all be together and _we'll_ do this," said Hermione, looking from Harry to Ron and back again. "Anyway, I'm going to have an early night and try and get some rest at least, as I have a bit more to prepare tomorrow morning than you two."

"Sounds like a good idea," said Harry. "Is Fleur still okay about helping?"

"She still doesn't like it, but she's agreed to help," said Hermione, and with her mouth becoming drier she added, "She's been amazing really. She's even fine about getting an early night tonight to be ready with me."

Harry looked at Hermione a moment, and could see that she was already nervous, but what he didn't know was that she was not experiencing nerves about the following day, yet, but anticipating being in Fleur's loving arms again, which gave her very similar fluttery feelings within. "Sleep well, and we'll see you tomorrow," he said.

"Have a goodnight too," Hermione said to them both. "Tomorrow it all begins...again."

They lifted the silencing charm as Hermione turned to leave; she gave half a smile to them both, and wished Dean and Luna a 'goodnight'. She was in the hallway, about to go to the stairs when Bill came down carrying a box.

"Everything all right, Hermione?" Bill asked as he reached the hallway, and put the box, which had some books in it, on a small table nearby.

"Yeah."

Bill paused, and checking that they were alone, he said, "I know about tomorrow, that you're leaving and where your destination is." He saw her about to answer or deny it. "I guessed. I want you to know, if we can help at all, at any time, please call on us."

"Thanks, Bill." Hermione was feeling very on edge being close to Bill, when her mind had been thinking about kissing Fleur the moment she had a chance when she reached the bedroom upstairs.

"I know about the other... _stuff_ ," Bill said, sensing her thoughts.

"Other stuff?"

"You and Fleur," he said.

"Oh...I...," Hermione couldn't find anything to say.

"I'm okay with it. And I'll look after her when you're gone."

"I...I don't know what to say," admitted Hermione.

"No; it's a bit awkward, isn't it?" Bill said with a slight smile. "At least I know the person she's set her heart on."

"Thanks for everything, Bill. For letting us stay here to regroup; you've saved our lives," said Hermione. "Which makes me feel even shittier for this situation with Fleur."

"We want to help in any way we can, and we're glad Ron chose us. You had a close call there."

"I know, and I know how lucky I am, about _everything_."

"There's one thing," said Bill, his voice becoming stern, as he looked into Hermione's eyes, so she could see his sincerity and he see hers. "Never, ever hurt her. Before I married her, a couple of her family took me to one side and warned me to never hurt her. I've never told her that it happened. I didn't want her getting annoyed with her family and I never thought it would be an issue...and even with...well...it didn't... Anyway, never..."

"I...I would nev..." Hermione protested.

"Never hurt her!" Bill repeated. "I'm not sure what happens to a person with veela blood who is hurt or rejected in their relationships, I was never told exactly, but the warning I got was enough to know that it would hurt her more deeply than us mere humans. I...I never want to have to see what that result is. I'm lucky I haven't seen it...despite eveything."

"I won't reject her, I..."

"A lot might happen between now and when you see each other again," said Bill, wistfully. "I only hope you feel for her then as you do now."

"I will," said Hermione adamantly. She was slightly afraid of the way Bill had spoken and the things he had left unsaid, but she was confident and surprisingly not embarrassed to admit to him, "I love her, Bill."

"As...as do I," said Bill, as he turned to leave. "Our thoughts will be with you all. Look after each other."

"We will," said Hermione, as she had the hallway to herself once more. It had sounded a lot like Bill would do something to her if she hurt Fleur. As it wasn't going to happen, she didn't really have anything to fear on that front, but it made her feel sorry for Bill and Fleur again; the marriage that held love but not true love; desire for physical contact and frustration for that being denied. She had guessed what Bill had struggled to say about him physically hurting Fleur, and that nothing untoward had happened, but she assumed it might have been because Fleur wasn't being hurt deliberately; it was a very unusual problem they had with Bill's personality, linked to his wounding by Greyback.

 _Physical contact...,_ thought Hermione. With that, she climbed the last step on the stairs, feeling her breathing quicken slightly as she approached the bedroom and made to walk in.

"I finally got..." Hermione didn't get to finish her sentence as a hand grabbed her and nearly hauled her through the doorway; the door shut behind her and she found herself pushed up against it as warm, soft lips assaulted her own.

Fleur had felt initially reluctant and mildly embarrassed at just what Bill had been suggesting, but as soon as she had accepted it, she couldn't think of anything else, with her desire rising with every minute before Hermione arrived. She broke off the kiss allowing Hermione to catch her breath, while she pressed kisses to her cheeks and neck, as Hermione made adorable whimpering noises.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you?!" said Fleur, suddenly wondering if pinning Hermione to the door, even if it was with kisses, was such a good plan.

"It's okay," said Hermione in a soft, almost weak voice. "I knew it was you."

"Were you talking with Bill?" asked Fleur in an equally soft voice.

"Um...yeah, Bill told me he knows about us, and to wish us well for tomorrow...he's...he's..."

"Bill's amazing, isn't he?" said Fleur.

"I was going to say 'weird' for a husband," said Hermione. "I don't know how I feel about him in relation to us at all." She didn't mention that Bill had all but threatened her not to hurt Fleur.

Fleur leaned in and began pressing kisses to Hermione's neck again. "Don't think about it too much. It is what it is and let's be thankful for it...unless."

"Unless?"

"Unless you don't want to...you know?"

Hermione didn't have to think long about anything; her desire had been lifted a few levels the moment she had stepped foot into the room, and inhaling the scent and feeling the lips and touch of Fleur, answered it all for her.

"I want to," said Hermione, in a voice she hardly recognized herself. "I want you. I've wanted you all day."

Fleur flicked her wand at the door, locking it - the silencing charm was always in place and didn't need casting - before she moved in again to kiss Hermione on the lips. It immediately deepened as Hermione wrapped her arms around Fleur, one of her hands sliding lower to hold Fleur's backside, which was rewarded with the Frenchwoman moaning into her mouth. Their kiss became very passionate with their tongues tangling; Hermione was still pressed up against the door and as Fleur broke off, fighting to catch her breath, pressing kisses to the soft skin of Hermione's cheek and neck again, she slid a hand down Hermione's body, lightly kneading a breast.

"You set me on fire, Hermione," said Fleur in a husky breathless whisper. "Since I left this room this morning, I've wanted nothing more than to get you back here...to touch you, my darling." She moved her hand between Hermione's legs and held Hermione's mound through her jeans.

Hermione gasped, everything she was feeling and hearing was nearly overwhelming her. "I..I felt you looking...at me," she said in halting sentences. "At meal times. I didn't dare look back in case I gave myself away."

As she began to undo the button of Hermione's fly, and pulled down the zip, Fleur kept eye contact with Hermione as much as possible. "You felt me looking at you?"

"Yeah. I used to think you had some creepy power that burned into me, because I've always known when you're looking at me, even back when I didn't like you that much. I put it down to your veela thing."

"My veela thing?" laughed Fleur. "As much as I'd like to blame it all on that, I think it's more likely because I've always loved you; perhaps the veela in me exaggerates it and allows you to feel that more, it's uncertain."

"Possible...I suppose," said Hermione, her mind not feeling as clear as it usually was, and indeed nearly fuzzy, because of the fact Fleur was unzipping her jeans.

"I'm not sure there's an exact answer to it," said Fleur, as she pressed her lips to Hermione's for a short kiss. "Whatever the case, I want you to feel something else, now."

Fleur kissed Hermione again, tenderly, but passionately too, as she slipped her hand into Hermione's underwear and dipped her fingers into the younger woman's wetness, both of them making a sighing noise as they continued to kiss. Fleur's fingers rubbed a maddeningly slow rhythm over and against the brunette's centre, before she had an urge she could no longer put off.

Leaving Hermione's lips, with a lingering, playful tug on her bottom lip, Fleur dropped to her knees and pulled down Hermione's jeans and underwear, admiring the damp patch on the said underwear. She got the younger woman to kick aside her garments, as she knelt before her, intoxicated by the scent of Hermione's desire, something which she would instantly recognize wherever she was now, and which had become a part of her.

Hermione had been uncertain of what Fleur had in mind, but seeing her kneel before her, she soon realized what was likely to happen and she felt herself get wetter, almost embarrassed with how close Fleur was to that. However, the deep desire to feel what Fleur was going to do outweighed her embarrassment and she leaned back against the door and placed her hands on Fleur's shoulders.

The blonde woman looked up at Hermione. "You okay?"

"Yes," said Hermione. She was unable to say more and she caressed Fleur's soft cheek with her hand and nodded her head.

Wrapping an arm around Hermione's backside, Fleur leaned forward and pressed kisses to the younger woman's mound, delighting in the soft pubic hair tickling her lips and nose, before she moved lower and deeper, lightly licking at Hermione's folds, the taste more glorious to her than any offering of ambrosia she could imagine.

As soon as she felt Fleur's tongue against her most intimate place, Hermione felt her body tingle all over, never imagining she would feel something so good. She steadied herself, having to lean more heavily on Fleur's shoulders, her legs shaking slightly.

Fleur was pleased, knowing the pleasure she was giving Hermione and the inner veela was feeling appeased again at loving and connecting with the woman she loved. As she concentrated all her efforts on pleasuring Hermione, to make her fall over the edge of a strong climax, she held her more firmly with her arm, supporting her, knowing when it happened that it might make her lover topple over.

Hermione's groin ached with her impending release, her lower abdomen feeling on fire as her climax came; her hips moved against Fleur's mouth, as she felt her release hit her hard, yelling out Fleur's name and once again thankful for the silencing charm. Fleur continued to move her tongue against her, lapping up her release, and Hermione felt a familiar burning again, and was amazed that she could feel another climax building straight on the back of the first. Fleur sensed it too and sucked and licked at Hermione's centre and now moved her arm around and thrust her fingers firmly in and out of her lover, feeling incredible at the gifts Hermione was giving her.

"SHIT, " said Hermione. "SHIIIIT, FLEEEEEEEUUURRRR!" She was literally seeing stars as her second release crashed down hard upon her. Fleur held her tightly and Hermione held the Frenchwoman, holding her to her lower abdomen, as she panted and tried to recover.

After a few minutes, Fleur slowly stood up, still supporting Hermione. "Let's lie down on the bed."

"I can't walk," said Hermione, with a laugh. "I can't feel my legs!"

"Well, I'll have to opt for plan 'B', won't I?" said Fleur, laughing. In one fluid fast move, Fleur scooped up Hermione in her arms and carried her to the bed, before gently setting her down, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"How? Are you on steroids, or something?" asked an incredulous Hermione.

"What do you mean?" asked a confused Fleur.

"You! There's no way I would say you could lift me. You were using a levitation spell, weren't you?"

"Err...no," said Fleur. "I'm quite strong...not many people know it, or expect it."

"Is that a veela thing?"

"I think I'm going to rename you Hermione 'is-that-a-veela-thing' Granger!" laughed Fleur.

"Seriously," asked an intrigued Hermione. "Do you train or is it something you just are?"

"I think it's one of the veela traits I have," said Fleur. "I've carried you before, when you fainted in the bathroom a few days ago, but you probably don't remember that. Does it bother you?"

"Absolutely not! It's sort of sexy."

"I have trained in the past too," admitted Fleur. "I found I was always well balanced and at my school I used to fence, rather than play quidditch."

"Are we talking 'fence' as in swords or putting up garden fences?" asked Hermione with a grin, watching as Fleur slowly undressed in front of her.

Now naked, Fleur helped Hermione off with her top garments before they both slid under the bed covers and Fleur lay on top of the brunette, and lightly moved her hips against her. "The swords kind. At Beauxbatons we often did things traditionally French as well as magical, and fencing wasn't seen as just a muggle thing. Anyway, I was good at it, as was my mother and my grandmother."

"Ahh, Luna's 'veelas inheriting from ancestors' theory?"

"I don't think so," said Fleur. "I don't remember anything odd about it, ever; I think it's just the normal inherited kind of thing. I was good at it, anyway."

"You're good at a lot of things," said Hermione as she ran her hands up and down Fleur's back and rested her hands on firm buttocks pushing Fleur into her more.

"Hmm, if only there had been fencing in the Triwizard tournament," said Fleur, sighing at the close contact with Hermione, and knowing she wouldn't be long going over the edge herself ,she got hold of one of Hermione's hands as she spoke and guided it between her legs. "Then...then I might have done...um...better...and not...come last."

Hermione was deftly moving her fingers against Fleur, loving how she was stopping Fleur from being able to talk properly. "That's what you want soon, though," said Hermione, amused. "To come?"

Fleur made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan and captured Hermione's lips in a fierce, urgent kiss, her body rocking against Hermione's hand. In a surprising move, Hermione flipped them over so she was lying on top of Fleur, and entered her with her fingers, leaving her thumb to rub over the blonde woman's clit. As her hand worked away she kissed her way to Fleur's breasts and took a nipple into her mouth, teasing it with her tongue.

The older woman's hips were nearly writhing as she felt her climax draw near; she was moaning, occasionally saying Hermione's name. The brunette could sense everything too and moving to the other breast took that nipple into her mouth and flicked her tongue over it in time to how her thumb was rubbing Fleur's hard nub between her legs. With another mischievous drawn out suck, Fleur fell over the edge into sexual bliss, her hips still rocking wildly, riding Hermione's hand and enjoying each and every spasm.

After a few moments, Fleur drew Hermione up for a kiss: a slow, gentle kiss, as her body still trembled. "I love you, Hermione," she said, close to tears.

Hermione gave a little shiver and placed a soft kiss back on her lover's lips. "I love you too."

There was a time of silence as the two women held each other, and inevitably they made love again, every touch and kiss seeming to carry the weight of the fear they both had and the deep sadness of their parting the next day. Hermione had always been the more adamant of the two that she would cope and that they had to get on with things, but as she felt herself go over the edge once more, her body and soul completely given to Fleur, reality crashed down upon her. Tears fell, and her body shook, not from sexual release but from sobs.

Fleur wrapped her arms around Hermione, tucking the girl's head against her neck and chest, seeming to know what was upsetting the brunette, and knowing it was several things at once.

"I...I...," Hermione haltingly tried to speak. "I...I don't want to leave you. I have to go, we...we know that...b...but I don't want to go, now."

Feeling her own tears moisten her cheeks, Fleur held Hermione firmly to her, stroking her hair, stroking her back, trying to sooth. "I know. I know."

"What if...?" Hermione couldn't finish her sentence.

"What if...what?" asked Fleur.

"What if...we never see each other again?"

Fleur's breath hitched. "My darling, we must not think like that," she said, kissing the top of Hermione's head. "I believe we will meet again. I _have_ to believe it."

A small pause, with only the sound of two people trying not to cry more, before Hermione found herself again. "I'm being silly. I'm...I know we can't know everything. I...my head is a mess."

"Nothing I say will help, because we both know the truth of our situations," said Fleur, resignedly, even though every part of her was screaming at her to agree with Hermione and pointlessly attempt to persuade her that staying at Shell Cottage was a much better idea.

"I know. It doesn't seem like my mind or body wants to comply." Hermione moved slightly, kissing the soft skin she had been resting her cheek on, and then kissing her way to Fleur's lips. "I love you," she said, wanting to start crying once more, but stopping herself.

Fleur nearly lost herself too, and had Hermione started crying again, she would not have been able to hold herself back either. "I love you, Hermione," she said, kissing her back. She looked at the clock in the room. "It's getting late."

Hermione stopped herself from replying with 'and closer to me leaving', and instead just nodded and said more vaguely, "I don't know how either of us will get to sleep, but perhaps we should try."

"Agreed," said Fleur. She then remembered the extra place she wanted to add to their 'walks' to teach Hermione for her own use when Fleur couldn't be there. "I want to take you for a 'walk', I've found a new addition to it that was wonderful."

"Okay," said Hermione, as she settled back, lying next to the Frenchwoman, resting her head on the older woman's shoulder.

"You just need to stay awake a little longer," said Fleur, before she sighed, settling. She took them through their usual walk, through the sunny, green field. "...you look up from your grassy seat on the ground and see a building a short distance away. You get up and walk towards it, realizing it looks like a very small barn or a very old church, and you walk up to the doorway..."

"Um...Fleur," interrupted Hermione. "I'm not religious, so if you're going to take me to go and pray, it's not really my thing."

"Mine neither," said Fleur. "You'll like it, trust me. So, you walk to the ancient wooden door and push it open, walking through. Inside, it's like no church or barn you've ever been in. It immediately feels warm, safe, and the place glows with ethereal light from the candles and torches along the walls; it feels as though you could live your whole life there. There are no seats, only a long table at the far end..."

"I see it and I see you there."

"What?"

"I'm there, Fleur, I can see it, and to me, you're there...and you're looking at me and smiling. Maybe it's an old derelict farmhouse and we're living there together?" offered Hermione, with a little chuckle.

"You're looking so beautiful," said Fleur as she could see Hermione in her visionary world too. "For some reason I'm thinking how wonderful you would look with flowers in your hair."

Hermione gave a sleepy giggle. "For some reason, in my world you're looking so beautiful I can imagine you wearing a tiara! It would be stunning and make you look even more beautiful. Blue sapphires to bring out the blue in your eyes..."

"Do you feel safe there?" asked Fleur, equally sleepy, revelling in what she was 'seeing' in her own mind too, so certain it was an indication of the life she desired to have with Hermione.

"Yes, nothing can find me there," said Hermione. "It's just you and me and I feel sooo good there...with you...my Fleur-de-lis. It almost feels familiar, like I've been there before. It's like that place is you...safe, protective..." Hermione gave a little yawn.

"My place feels familiar to me too, but probably because you're there. I have this feeling that we might be able to really meet there in some way. In the times to come, Hermione," said Fleur, carefully. "...take yourself there when you have great stress. Look for me there, and find the calm you need. I'll be doing the same, until I can be with you again."

"You're so very beautiful, Fleur. And the little church or farmhouse, or whatever it is, feels so safe," said an even more sleepy Hermione. "Yes, I'll definitely use it...as long...as..."

"As long as...what?"

"As long as I can have a go at wearing that tiara," said Hermione with a chuckle.

Fleur smiled, and kissed Hermione's forehead. "I'll always be there, as will you, when we need it."

Both feeling relaxed and contented beyond what they thought was possible, they both fell asleep into a mostly dreamless slumber. The dreams they both experienced involved holding the other or being in the other's presence in a very normal every day way; nothing else penetrated their dreams or their resolve.


	8. Parting

8: Parting

Hermione had set an alarm to be awake at five o'clock that morning, giving her time to prepare before setting off with Harry, Ron and Griphook. Anticipating the alarm, Hermione awoke a minute or two before a noise emitted from the clock in the room.

She was very aware of Fleur, close up behind her, holding her; she was aware of the lily-of-the-valley scent of the older woman, and how soft her breasts felt against her back. _I'm really leaving today,_ Hermione thought, swallowing hard. _I don't want to. I...come on, pull yourself together!_

Fleur stirred, part of her not wanting to be fully awake, because that made sure the day started and the longer she refused to be awake she felt she was delaying the inevitable. Of course, it was futile, and as she felt Hermione move slightly, she held her tighter for a moment or two, and pressed a kiss to the girl's shoulder.

"Morning," said Fleur.

Hermione turned in Fleur's embrace and wrapped her arms around the Frenchwoman and brought her in to kiss. It was gentle, deep and almost painful, each knowing how the other was feeling. The brunette wanted to delay everything and make love with Fleur again, but she knew it wouldn't help either of them; and this morning, of all mornings, things had to be on time.

Fleur was thinking the same thing, however much the veela within wanted to claim the younger woman again and never let her leave. "We'd better get up," she said, sounding more sure and confident than she felt; inside she wanted to weep.

The only way Hermione found she could actually get up and out of bed, was to think in a methodical way, and consider the day like every other, but with an appointment she had to go to, which she must not be late for. With that thought in mind, she quickly downed a cereal bar and then went about getting showered and putting on underwear.

Very few words were spoken as the two women started their day, both trying to find calm in the silence, where words would shatter their illusion of normality. Hermione looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. _I can do this,_ she thought. _I can do this. I_ WILL _do this._ With a determined nod at her own reflection, she walked back out to the bedroom and looked at the clothes on the chair that she was going to wear.

"Are you going to drink the polyjuice potion first, then dress?" asked Fleur. The Frenchwoman was wearing a blue shirt and comfortable trousers; to Hermione the woman looked stunning in whatever she wore, and although Hermione had never denied the woman's beauty, even when she had hated her, she fully appreciated it now.

"Yes, I think that's best, in case Bellatrix is a bit bigger than those clothes," replied Hermione. "We can make things bigger, but it's harder to repair ripped seams."

"Do you want me to give the potion a last look?" asked Fleur.

Hermione nodded; she knew the potion was perfectly fine, but it delayed the moment of gulping it down a little longer.

"It all looks okay. I'll add her hair," said Fleur, as she carefully removed the strand of hair from the paper bag Hermione had kept it in and placed it into the flask of potion, which then proceeded to steam and froth slightly. "It's ready."

"Right," said Hermione, exhaling a deep breath.

Fleur turned and walked to Hermione and offered the flask to her. As the brunette reached out to take it, her hand started shaking, so she used her other hand too. She held the flask firmly in her shaking hands, but put it on the top of a chest of drawers next to her, and walked forward, wrapping her arms around Fleur.

"I want to feel you in my arms, one more time," said Hermione, her voice croaky under the strain to not burst into tears. "As me, not...her."

"My sweet Hermione," said Fleur, having just as much trouble to keep her emotions under control, and having to use all her will to keep serene, inhaling Hermione's scent, the feel of her brown hair against her fingers, their hearts and breaths together.

They kissed, a deep yet delicate kiss, imprinting the feel and taste of the other's lips in their minds, their consciousness and into their very being. Both were unable to stop a traitorous tear from working its way down their cheeks.

When they broke from their kiss, Fleur said, in a strained voice, "Wherever you are, I'll be loving you."

"Fleur," said Hermione. "I love you."

Fleur stroked Hermione's cheek with the back of her hand. "We need to prepare now. Time doesn't wait for anyone." She tried to smile, but it felt forced so she busied herself with checking over the black dress Hermione was going to wear.

Sighing deeply, Hermione took a few more calming breaths, before she picked up the flask of polyjuice potion. With one last look at Fleur, she gulped down the potion. It was vile; that particular potion was _always_ vile, no matter whom the person was they were trying to impersonate. Then the pain and strange sensations started, and Hermione had to flop down in the armchair in the room, doubled over. She didn't feel her body change a great deal in proportion, but her arms felt more spindly, her bust felt slightly larger, and her head felt heavier as her hair changed to the longer and more messy hair of Bellatrix.

The sensations and uncomfortable side effects finally ceased and Hermione looked up at Fleur, and then stood up in front of her. Hermione knew the polyjuice potion had done its work, because Fleur actually took a half step back away from her, and her eyes were very wary. They both knew that it was Hermione in the shell of Bellatrix, but the Death Eater had such a reputation, for them both in recent days, that it was enough for Fleur's instinct to be on edge.

"I...I assume it's worked?" asked Hermione, wanting confirmation.

"Yes," Fleur said, seemingly finding it hard to look at Hermione in this form for too long.

"We'd better do the clothes."

The dress only needed a slight adjustment, to give it more of a corsetted appearance without it actually becoming too uncomfortable to wear. After arranging the dress, Fleur helped with Hermione's new hair, styling it up with her wand in a way she remembered from the last time Bellatrix had been seen. She had had access through the Order to a couple of recent surveillance photos, and with magical photos moving, it gave a better idea of exactly what a person looked like as they moved.

"I think that's it," said Fleur, after around ten to fifteen minutes of working with the unruly, black hair before her.

"I should take a look in a mirror, " said Hermione. "To try and get used to the fact this is what I look like today."

Hermione walked into the bathroom to use the full length mirror in there. She walked up to it and there was Bellatrix looking back at her; it made her take in a sharp breath. She glanced side-on at herself thinking of how the Death Eater held herself; how her stance was when she spoke normally as well as when she wanted something done. She tried to put on a disapproving, annoyed look into the mirror and then a slightly altered version of it, imagining how she would look if she wanted to tell someone off, get them to obey a command or...torture them.

"Shit!" Hermione gasped. The expression she had used was one of the last she remembered being aimed at her. Here was Bellatrix looking back at her, ready to torture her again. _It's me! s_ he thought. _It's only me! It's not her!_

She felt herself go warm, then a shiver reach her; she felt nauseous and overwhelmed and couldn't stop herself from falling to her knees as she nearly passed out in a dead faint. It had been a while since she had felt such a strong reaction like that, and she was angry with herself. She did some deep breathing exercises to steady herself and ward off the fainting feeling.

Fleur had been watching from the bathroom doorway as Hermione had been practising her stances and expressions and she had seen her lover go very white and seen how quickly things had turned. In moments she was kneeling beside Hermione and putting an arm around her. It felt peculiar to be comforting someone looking exactly like Bellatrix, but deep within Fleur she soon overcame it, knowing that it was completely Hermione and not the Death Eater at all.

"Great!?" muttered Hermione, angrily. "What a fantastic way to start today!?"

"I suppose we should have expected it," said Fleur. "Perhaps we should have planned for it?"

"I don't see how?"

"No...I don't know either...I.."

"This had better not happen again!" said Hermione, still sounding angry. "That manky-arsed trollop might do many unpredictable things every day of her life, but shivering and fainting isn't among them!"

Fleur was thinking as fast as she could on how to help and make things sound better. The problem was, part of her was thinking of something supportive and calming to say, but the other veela-linked part of her was nearly plotting ways to put Hermione off, so she didn't leave the house at all. Using all of her resolve Fleur beat the battle within and said, "Well, maybe you needed to get that out of your system. It won't happen again, because you've done that now."

"We can't know that," said Hermione, as she got to her feet, accepting Fleur's hand.

"Then the other solution is perhaps a simpler one," said Fleur. "Don't look at your reflection; not in windows or anywhere. Avoid seeing yourself. If you're with the others I'm sure they'll let you know in some way if you're not acting how they'd expect."

"Hmm, that sounds like a good idea," said Hermione with a sigh. "I don't need to keep coming face to face with her. At least I wasn't sick, that's one thing that doesn't seem to happen now."

As Fleur walked them back into the bedroom, she glanced at the clock. It was 6.50am. Her heart felt heavy. "It's almost time," she said.

"Shit," said Hermione. "Where did that time go? Are you coming with me to the door?"

She had to swallow hard, but Fleur managed to reply with, "No. I don't think that would be a good idea, for a lot of reasons."

"You're right...I suppose." Hermione closed her eyes, grimaced and gave a little groan. "I hate it. I hate my life. I hate all of it!" she said, almost spitting out the words.

"You hate _all_ of it?" asked Fleur, a little concerned.

Hermione looked at her, and from within the body of Bellatrix, the woman gave a small shake of her head, her expression softening, which was an expression Bellatrix would never wear. "No...maybe not _all_ of it." She smiled. "I just hate everything else. Anyway, I'd better go."

"Can I kiss you, one last time?" asked Fleur, as Hermione had taken a step towards the door.

"You don't have to do that, Fleur. I know you're trying to make me feel better, but I don't want you remembering me as...as _her!_ "

"What if it's to make _me_ feel better?" asked Fleur, her eyes feeling watery. "With our eyes closed I'd know it's you every time, there is no doubt for me."

Hesitating, Hermione walked slowly to Fleur, her own eyes filling with tears which she refused to shed, which oddly seemed easier in the body she was wearing. Both women closed their eyes as their lips connected. All too soon the kiss ended, and with one last look into Fleur's eyes, Hermione ducked her head down and walked out of the bedroom, not able to say anymore, not able to look back as she closed the bedroom door behind her and Disapparated from the landing to just outside the house. The others were waiting for her a short distance away, and taking some more calming breaths she walked towards them, trying out her walking and getting more used to what she needed to do with each step.

"Finally! I thought you...," said Ron, and then he stopped talking abruptly. Hermione had pierced him with a look, and in Bellatrix's body it had the desired effect. "Bloody hell!" he muttered.

"You didn't have any trouble with it?" asked Harry.

"No. We managed," said Hermione.

"Are we all ready, then?" asked Harry. All of them nodded, even Griphook, and put their hands together as they Disapparated.

Hermione didn't look back to Shell Cottage once, even though her heart felt like it was being tugged, trying to drag her back to the house, to Fleur. She had to try and wipe her mind clear and think only on what was ahead, because to think on what she had left behind would leave her vulnerable and in those moments when her guard dropped, even a little, then they would all be in greater danger. As they were Disapparating she had one thought. _I'll see you again, Fleur. I will!_

XXXXXXXXXX

Fleur had been almost holding her breath the moment the bedroom door had closed. She counted to fifty in her head, only breathing the most shallow of breaths and those mostly through her nose. She felt her heart, body and her whole being tugged on, as if an unseen rope was trying to drag her from the room, and she knew where that sensation would end: when she was with Hermione.

For several minutes Fleur stood as still as a statue not allowing herself to move a step, because she didn't trust herself not to burst through the door and go running after Hermione. Then, quite suddenly the tugging sensation stopped, as if that unseen rope had been cut, and she knew; she knew that Hermione had gone. She continued to feel her heart ache for the younger woman, as it had done for years, but the connection they had had when they were in close proximity to each other had changed and become very powerful, and in that moment it had suddenly distanced.

That sudden loss, left Fleur feeling nauseous and empty; so bereft of happiness of any kind, she felt grief. The tears she had fought so hard to control all morning, now fell, and she flopped down to the floor, leaning up against the bottom of the bed, grabbing handfuls of quilt: a quilt that still held the scent of her lover. She let out deep-wracking sobs, not knowing what to do, feeling physically ill, and emotionally torn. The pain in her chest felt as real as if someone had literally ripped her heart from her.

 _Why didn't my Grandmother warn me?_ thought Fleur. _I knew we could feel intense emotions about the ones we love if they are hurt or reject us, but this isn't a rejected or unrequited love; we've been together willingly, and I've accepted that I couldn't be there to help Hermione when she needed it, but I was there and helped her to get better, now. Why am I feeling like this?_

Fleur considered trying to escape to her place of calm with her relaxation technique, but then she knew she would go to the little old building and look for Hermione and when she either found her there, or didn't find her there, it would make her feel worse again. She couldn't use that vision just yet.

At some point Fleur had fallen asleep, and she was only awoken when she heard a knock on the bedroom door. She wasn't sure where she was to begin with, or why she was sitting on the floor curled up against the end of the bed, but then the reality hit her again. _Hermione's gone,_ she thought. She sniffled and became annoyed at herself for feeling so weak.

A knock sounded at the door again. "Fleur?!" Bill's voice called. "Fleur! Come on, open the door?!"

Fleur knew she would have to face her husband and the day, however much she wished it were different. She used some wordless magic to remove the locking charm on the door and lifted the silencing charm too, which she had cast on the room the moment Hermione had arrived from Malfoy Manor. It felt like another part of Hermione had gone when she lifted the charms.

"Fleur?" Bill called again. "Look, I'm worried, now. If you don't open the door I'll..."

"It's open," said Fleur, wiping her eyes and trying to gather herself.

Bill walked into the room, feeling wary of what he might find; the first thing he saw was Fleur sitting on the floor, but the second thing he noticed was the scents in the room. He had to physically swallow hard and push down the jealous wolfish part of himself that wanted to react to the sexual scents of his wife and obviously Hermione. He knew it had happened before, but the strange feelings within himself, that wanted to react, were often hard to stop and were often the first things he was aware of. The more wolf-laden part of him reacted to instinctual things, and that included scents; he was sure his accidentally given talents would prove useful at times, but so far they only confused him and made him both wary and weary of what a situation actually was in front of him. He knew he would have to learn to hone the skills before they could become more useful and less inflammatory.

Fleur moved herself to sit on the end of the bed, and put her head in her hands. "Hi."

Closing the door behind him, Bill went and sat next to his wife, not really knowing what to say. "They're gone; but, of course, you knew that."

"Yes."

"I...I don't know what to say," said Bill.

"What _is_ there to say?" mumbled Fleur.

"I don't know. Nothing." Hesitantly Bill put an arm around his wife. "I only have to look at you to see the answers. Do you want to talk?"

"Not really," said Fleur.

"Well...well, I'm here if you need to."

Giving a sigh, Fleur straightened up and looked at Bill. "Thank you. Words won't heal anything, though. My mind will manage, it's the physical things I never expected."

"You mean a reaction to being apart?"

"Yes. No one ever warned me of this. I've never felt anything like it. You and I have never been apart like that, so I've never experienced it."

Bill felt a little pleased with that comment, and although he knew deep down that Hermione was the true love of his wife's life, and had always been, he was sure Fleur loved him too; with this comment it showed that she considered she might feel something similar had they been forced apart.

"There's so much my Grandmother never told me. She knew, she had to have known."

"You mean related to your veela ancestry?" asked Bill.

"Yes," replied Fleur. "Before I left France for the first time, to go to Hogwarts for the Triwizard tournament, my Grandmother wanted to see me. She started to tell me things that might happen, things that I might or might not have inherited. All in relation to love and feelings towards others. But I don't think she told me everything...in fact, I _know s_ he didn't. And I wasn't really listening that intently."

"You think she knows more about what you're feeling for Hermione?"

"Absolutely!" said an adamant Fleur. "The last few things she said before I had to leave back then was this: 'When you know, and you _will_ know, you will know when to see me, what to ask and how to ask it. I cannot help you until you know.'"

"Does she create crosswords?" asked Bill, with a raised eyebrow. "It's rather cryptic."

"That, unfortunately, is my Grandmother," said Fleur. "She said the same thing before we got married, so I obviously don't 'know' what she wants me to think I 'know'." She shook her head at her own cryptic answer. "I think she means, when I know the extent of my veela blood, in relation to love, that I can go and ask her what it's about, and she'll let me in on some veela secrets. At least, that's what I'm hoping."

"You need to see your Grandmother, now?" asked Bill.

"I do, eventually, but I can't leave now, not by magical means nor muggle. I might get cut off from coming back or endanger my family in France. I can't go yet. If we get through this, however long it takes, then I will have a chance to see her."

"Do...I hate to ask to make you think about it," Bill said, hesitantly. "Do you 'feel' Hermione still?"

"When she left, I felt like someone had cut an unseen rope between us, and I've never felt so lost and adrift, but now..." Fleur paused, closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "Now, I can feel her; at the very distant edge of my being. It's like a little package in the back of my mind, all tied up and sealed."

"A package?" asked Bill quizzically.

"I think it might be because she's feeling stress, fear or nerves and is trying to hide it," said Fleur, as she tried to concentrate on the part of her mind that seemed to hold Hermione. The attempt to delve deeper into it and even to try to unravel the package and get inside to what she thought might be Hermione's emotions, made Fleur feel tired. "I can't go beyond that at the moment. It's like a tense knot, but I know it's her. I feel a bit ill, like I want to be sick...probably from all the crying."

"Am I in there?" asked Bill. He hadn't wanted to ask any more difficult questions, but the query came forth before he could stop himself.

"It's...it's different," said Fleur. "I...you're..."

"No, I shouldn't have asked," said Bill, sadly. "I think I know the answer."

"How can you know the answer?" said Fleur, tiredly. "I was going to say that I'm aware of you, but in a different way. I felt your pain with Greyback. I felt I was at your side, even the few moments that I couldn't be...it's just different to how Hermione is."

It was Bill's turn to sigh, which he did so resignedly. "I'm guessing that it's not as intense?"

Fleur nodded her head, ashamed of the truth she was admitting to. "Yes. Nothing I say will sound either nice or satisfactory: you _are_ a part of me, just not as deeply as Hermione is and not in the same way. And...and it's nothing to do with physical looks or personality, because something changed within me from the moment I set eyes on Hermione at Hogwarts, and I certainly didn't realize that at the time. I was too cowardly and young to understand it and I tried to ignore it, and even tried to run from it. I think it's something my Grandmother will know more about; it's beyond physical or normal things...at least it feels that way. But I know there are several veelas who take female partners, and I know she'll know more about it...hopefully."

"Maybe we never should have got married?" offered Bill, not unkindly, but in normal conversational tone.

Fleur put her arm around her husband. "Don't say that. I don't regret marrying you. I'll always love you. I never ever thought there would be anything with Hermione, because she hated me so much. I was prepared and I'm still prepared to be by your side in the days to come. I hope in the years to come we'll always be good friends, because first and foremost you're my best friend. I...I know how tame and stupid it all sounds..."

"I love you, Fleur," said Bill. "I'll never stop loving you. I hope to always be your friend too. At times it's so hard to think of you and I never having more...but sometimes you have to play with the cards you have, and I will not risk hurting you again, not for anything. If we were my parents' age, maybe companionship alone would be enough, but we're so young...it's not fair on you, or me. It will be hard at times and I'm sure you'll know when those times are, but you can always turn to me for help, or a shoulder to cry on."

"If we all get through this, we'll have to discuss what happens with us," said Fleur. "I'm not sure we can stay married forever and keep up the pretence to your family, or mine."

Bill groaned. "You're right. Can we not think about that for now?"

"Agreed," said Fleur, as she placed a kiss on Bill's cheek. "Thank you."

"I'd better be getting back downstairs. Dean and Luna are talking of leaving too since they realized that the others left. I don't think they should leave yet, but I want to go through the safest options for them," said Bill, standing up.

"I'll freshen up and I'll be down in a few minutes," said Fleur. As she was about to stand up and go to the bathroom, a thought hit her. "Oh shit! Do they know all about this?" she asked, unsure of what might be known and left unsaid when she went downstairs.

"No. I told them you were up early to help Hermione and asked me to not let you sleep in too long," replied Bill. "I cast a silencing charm when I was outside the door, so they won't have heard anything."

A relieved Fleur nodded her head in thanks. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

A few hours had passed since Hermione had left, and as Fleur stood in the bathroom, brushing her hair before she went downstairs, she tried once again to 'feel' Hermione in the back of her mind. She immediately found the tense knot of emotions she knew was Hermione. She tried to almost send her love to that part of her mind, as though it could be felt by her lover; she doubted if it would work, but if it did, then Hermione would feel her love.

Although Fleur had initially avoided trying to reach her place of calm, she wanted to try now, and to see if she could imagine Hermione there. She closed the lid of the toilet and sat down, taking deep breaths. In her mind she wandered in her sun-filled place of peace and relaxation, and as she reached the point of walking up to the little barn or church-like building, she felt a small anticipatory flutter of excitement. She walked into the building, almost able to smell the wood and candles and the scent of herbs from the rushes covering the floor.

The place looked empty, but she continued to walk up towards the long, almost altar-like table at the far end, taking in that there were flowers everywhere and those mostly lillies and trailing clumps of lily-of-the-valley. _I'm sure they're here because of what Hermione's said to me,_ thought Fleur. Nobody appeared as she stood at the table, and as much as she willed Hermione to be there, she couldn't seem to imagine her there. She turned to walk back, thinking of leaving her imaginary world, when she saw Hermione waiting back near the doorway.

Fleur nearly felt herself skip back down the length of the building to Hermione, and as she reached her, she saw that the brunette was wearing the black dress she had left in that morning, although she thankfully didn't look like Bellatrix facially.

"Hermione...it's so good to see you," Fleur said, having never said anything before in this world, and usually exploring it in silence. Oddly Hermione replied.

"Well?"

"Well what?" asked Fleur.

"Can I try on your tiara, now?"

Fleur laughed, and was relieved that despite her empty yearning for the younger woman, that she could still find humour, or the deep recesses of her mind had. "Of course."

The Frenchwoman didn't even know she was wearing a tiara, but when she reached up to her head she felt the metal band and lifted it from her head, intrigued as to what it would look like in her world, or whether it would look as Hermione had described. She held it in both hands, and it indeed had blue saphires and diamonds. Smiling she handed it over to the brunette.

The Hermione in Fleur's world, placed the tiara on her head, but immediately took it off. "That's not right at all!"

"What isn't?" asked Fleur, confused.

"Ouch!" Hermione dropped the tiara as if it was scolding hot or had sharp thorns, sucking two of her fingers, which looked very red as if really burned, or scratched.

Feeling very confused, Fleur looked down at the tiara as it lay on the rush-covered stone floor between them. She briefly bent down and placed a hand on the item, and found it to be warm, but not scolding. It felt comforting rather than repulsive.

Annoyed at the distraction, leaving the tiara on the floor, Fleur looked back up to Hermione. "I love you, my darling," she managed to say, as she leaned in to hug the younger woman.

"I love you, my Fleur-de-lis," Hermione said, embracing her back.

Fleur was going to lean in and kiss the younger woman but Hermione suddenly stood back.

"Now is really not the time for this," said Hermione.

Before Fleur could enjoy her visionary world, Hermione simply disappeared in front of her; she suspected it was because she felt so distracted and disjointed. She felt empty again, and as she brought herself back to the bathroom, she tried once more to feel that parcel in her mind. It had changed slightly, and if Fleur had been asked to describe it, she would have said it felt like fear. Maybe a little anger as well as fear. _Hermione,_ she thought, _wherever you are, please be all right._ For a moment she felt so nauseous that she leaned over the toilet, expecting to vomit, but nothing happened and the wave of nausea passed.

Fleur wasn't sure what to make of her latest trip to her relaxation world, but she thought it was a lot of hopeful wishful thinking and that maybe even her veela blood was affecting her thought processes; once again she wished she could talk to her grandmother about all of it. Although her mother had veela blood, she had always found it easier to talk with her grandmother, despite the cryptic answers she often received. For now, she couldn't dwell on what she had experienced this morning, and as she made to leave the bathroom and bedroom and go downstairs, she decided she might try to access the same thoughts and her visionary world again that night, when she was alone, or as alone as she could be with Bill probably back in the room.

XXXXXXXXXX

Hermione was holding on for dear life; holding on for dear life with very sore, burned and bruised fingers; holding on for dear life with burned fingers on the back of a dragon, with Ron and Harry clinging on too in the same desperation. _What were we thinking?_ thought Hermione, as she gripped her knees to the dragon's back, much as a jockey trying to clear a high fence in a horse race. _Yes, we have the horcrux, but we might not live to do anything further!_

The plan of entering Gringotts had always been a dangerous and problematic plan, and it wasn't long into the scheme that they had to enchant a goblin. Potential fatal disaster after potential fatal disaster seemed to happen. Their own enchantments were taken away by one of Gringotts' security measures, then everything they touched in Bellatrix's vault was scolding hot and multiplied, threatening to suffocate and crush them all inside. On top of that Griphook played his own treacherous hand and left them for dead. _You can never trust goblins,_ Hermione thought. _Fine! So we learned that the saying was true. Nothing we can do about it now._

After some very deadly manoeuvring the three of them found themselves on the back of the dragon which the goblins had kept down in the bowels of the vaults for security; although the creature was so abused and neglected that it was a wonder it had survived this long. So, here the three of them were, clinging on to the back of the dragon as it smashed its way through the bank and took flight, high up into the air.

 _What happens if we end up in Romania?_ thought Hermione, unsure of the dragon's destination. _Or the Arctic? First things first: we're alive, we're out of the vaults, we have the horcrux...we'll think of something._

As she gripped the painfully hard scaled back of the dragon Hermione tried to find some calm and automatically thought about using the scenario she had learned from Fleur. _Fleur,_ thought Hermione. _Why on earth did I leave her? Well, I know why, but maybe there might have been another way?! No use thinking about what I could have done. Shit, what will she think if she hears about this?! Urgh, I can't think about that either. I've done some rash things these past few days,_ she continued to think on. _Sleeping with Fleur is a huge thing and I'm still not sure how that all happened, but riding a dragon? What do I let myself get mixed up in?!_

Instead of stalling to sit down in her grassy, pleasant countryside field, Hermione walked her mind straight to the little old building. When she walked inside she saw that Fleur was standing at the far end of the building. Hermione felt her heart lurch at seeing her, and in the real world gripped tighter with her hands on the dragon's back. She imagined walking up to Fleur and wrapping her arms around the woman, but her lover turned and nearly ran to her instead.

Some of her visit there was almost nonsense with picking up Fleur's tiara and dropping it for some reason, then realizing that her grip on the dragon in the real world had caused its scales to cut into her already sore hands.

"I love you, my darling," said Fleur softly.

"I love you, my Fleur-de-lis."

Hermione had never spoken in the visionary world before, but she wasn't disturbed by it either, unless one counted that her stomach had done a little back flip. She had always rolled her eyes at people calling their wives, husbands or partners 'darling' and wrote it off as something rather old fashioned and sickly, but whenever Fleur called her that, it gave her that wonderful fizzing feeling in her chest. Fleur, with that touch of French accent, breathy and desirous, calling Hermione 'darling' had been a revelation, one which Hermione hadn't yet shared with the Frenchwoman. She resolved that she would tell her, when she got the chance. _If I ever get off this bloody dragon in one piece!_ she thought.

Breathing very much calmer, and feeling warm inside, Hermione kept her imaginary self with her arms around Fleur, with her memory remembering how the woman felt to hug. Hermione thought about kissing Fleur...

"We need to get off, now!" said Harry.

"Wh...what?!" said Hermione, half of her still feeling she was with Fleur, and the other half on the back of the dragon. She felt very apologetic to Fleur, even though it wasn't real; she was still aware of being held by the blonde woman.

"Ron, Hermione!" shouted Harry. "After the count of three, we jump off into the water we're now crossing."

Hermione wanted to be left in the arms of Fleur, and to kiss her, but realized how ridiculous that was and said to her dream-like Fleur, who was leaning in to kiss her. "Now is really not the time for this."

"One...two...three...NOW!" shouted Harry.

Letting go of Fleur and the dragon at almost the same time, Hermione's breath was nearly taken from her as she hit the cold water. She was aware of the other two as they flapped around in the water like ungainly trolls, their clothing trying to drag them all down. Finally they found land, and thankfully on the opposite side of the lake and a good distance from where the dragon had decided to land.

 _We've got out of this one, then?!_ thought Hermione, mildly amused. _What next? NOOO! Don't even tempt that fate!?_

In the few hours that followed, after changing into dry clothes, healing all their scold burns and cuts, from the vault and the dragon, checking the horcrux of Hufflepuff's Cup, and getting warm again, their next destination became apparent. Well, that is to say it became apparent to Harry and his connection to Voldemort. Hermione had considered it would have to be done at some point, but continued to be worried by the next location. They needed to get into Hogwarts, and find a mystery item that could be a horcrux, but they would have to go into Hogsmeade first. _Out of the frying pan, into the fire!_ thought Hermione, as the three of them discussed the next plan.


	9. Troubled

9: Troubled

After an eventful morning, during which Fleur had felt herself emotionally drained, she was glad to have other things to think about when she spoke to Dean and Luna, with Bill.

"I think we've nearly outstayed our welcome," said Luna. "It's been lovely, but it's your home. You didn't ask for this, and we did sort of land here."

"But where would you go?" asked Fleur. Over the past few days, she had begun to understand the younger blonde girl more and genuinely liked and admired her. "You couldn't go home, it's too dangerous."

"If I have a tent...well, even if I _don't_ have a tent, I can survive in the countryside," said Luna, confidently. "I'm very happy with nature and nature seems oddly happy with me."

"I don't doubt that, Luna," said Bill. "However, the countryside is just as dangerous. Harry, Ron and Hermione were captured, even when they'd taken every precaution. So were you, Dean. It's too dangerous."

"I could survive in the muggle world," said Dean. "If I lived in the completely muggle world, maybe I'd avoid notice. Nothing's happened on my couple of shopping trips."

Bill shook his head. "That's not how it's been working lately, and I know you know that. You're both wanted people now; and wanted by several different people for various reasons. A short shopping trip is not the same as living hour after hour and day after day in that situation."

"Please, both of you," said Fleur. "...stay here, with us."

Dean looked at Luna, and Luna tilted her head to one side as if weighing up the arguments of fors and againsts. "Well...," said Dean.

Luna nodded. "Yes, we'll stay a little longer. I think it won't be much longer, though. Something tells me we'll all have to leave soon, anyway."

"Do you practice divination?" asked Bill.

"No. It's just obvious, isn't it?" When the other three looked questioningly at Luna she added, "If Harry, Ron and Hermione are back out there doing whatever dangerous thing it is - and I know it's dangerous by looking at your faces," she said looking to Bill and Fleur. "Then it's highly likely that something else will happen, or will be stirred up. We might all have to act then."

There was a moment of silence as the other three absorbed what Luna had said; she was right, of course, and they all knew it.

The rest of the day was reasonably normal, but they were all aware of how quiet it seemed and how much more space there was around the house. Fleur was trying to keep herself busy, even doing a little reading on curses and darker arts, thinking any preparation might be useful later. Mostly, she kept occupied doing anything she could think of, as noticing that extra space around Shell Cottage immediately made her miss Hermione more. She even missed Ron, but she suspected that was linked to the fact that wherever Ron and Harry were, Hermione was usually with them. She had soon been aware of that fact at the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts, in what seemed a lifetime ago, now.

Back then, all the times Fleur had managed to have some time alone away from her fellow Beauxbatons students, and the ones who followed her around like sheep, she had considered trying to find Hermione to talk to her, to find out more about her. However, every time she was able to extricate herself from her friends, she never ever found Hermione alone. The brunette was always with either Ron or Harry, or both of them. Fleur had then learned that Hermione frequented the library a lot, and was hopeful to catch her there, only to find that Viktor Krum was always with her there.

Viktor Krum made Fleur's blood boil at the time. She had recognized in herself that she was bordering on hatred for the star quidditch player, and she had no idea why, because up to that point he had done nothing to her. It was only after some weary thoughts one night as she tried to get to sleep, that she realized she hated him because he was getting time with Hermione and she was not. Fleur then felt even more uptight about him, because she was so annoyed and slightly confused at herself for having such strong and irrational feelings and the reasons for them.

Evening began to fall upon the day, and Fleur, feeling a bit warm, had gone outside to take in the fresh evening air, and look out towards the sea as she often did. This time, naturally, her thoughts went to Hermione, feeling out that part in her mind she thought was the brunette. _Be strong, Hermione,_ she thought, as if sending a message into the air. _Be strong, and be safe, my darling._ A short time later, Bill joined her and inhaled several deep breaths, also enjoying the fresh sea air.

"The house feels strange, now," said Fleur. "Almost empty."

"You mean the silence? No Griphook complaining? Less sleeping bags to trip over?" offered Bill.

"Yes. It's very weird. It felt like they'd all been living here a lot longer than that. It's a feeling similar to how parents must feel when they're children leave home."

Bill chuckled. "I don't think I've ever thought of myself as Ron's dad!"

"I don't mean literally 'parents', I just meant similar to that feeling of seeing them off to school and not knowing...things. Anyway, I'm thinking of turning in for the night; I'm tired."

"I think I will too," said Bill, actually yawning and stretching his arms above his head. "I'll go make up the couch."

"Why?"

"Dean claims he likes the flat of the floor," replied Bill. "I'm getting old enough to prefer the couch."

"You don't have to sleep there, Bill."

"I don't? Where else can I sleep? I don't think Luna would want me in with her! Oh...nooo, I'm not sharing with Ollivander! I draw the line at that!"

"Sleep with me in our room," said Fleur, softly.

"I can't sleep in your bed."

"It's not my bed, it's _our_ bed," corrected Fleur.

"Things have changed, Fleur. We knew this day would come eventually and it's been headed that way for a while. It wouldn't feel right, now."

Fleur understood what Bill was saying and she hadn't even thought about the implications until right that moment, so distracted she had been with the day's events. She knew what he said was right, but a part of her didn't want to be alone in the bed. _I'm experiencing what the English call, wanting to have my cake and eat it,_ she thought, sadly, and with a little distaste for herself.

"At least for tonight, will you sleep in the same bed as me?" asked Fleur. "I changed the sheets earlier...so it will only be me." She wanted him to know that he wouldn't have to deal with much of Hermione's scent. She hadn't wanted to change the sheets, and had wanted to keep Hermione's scent, but as that wasn't very helpful to herself either, she changed the bed clothes.

"Sleep next to you as what?" offered Bill. "Your friend? Your brother? Your...?"

"As my husband."

"You know I can never completely be that for you," said Bill sadly. "Especially not now, with Hermione."

"Okay, maybe I didn't choose my words correctly," considered a confused and very tired Fleur. "As my friend, then? We've slept so many weeks, more as friends than lovers, would it be all that different? I know it's asking a lot of you, but I don't want to be alone tonight, I at least want my best friend with me. I know I might not have any right to ask it of you...I..."

Bill sighed, making a small groan of noise. "All right. I'll sleep in our bed with you, if only for tonight. If it doesn't work out I'll move to the armchair."

After the pair of them had completed the checks and rounds of Shell Cottage, as one or the other had done every night, they got ready for bed and as they settled into bed, Fleur was aware of how awkward it truly felt. Bill wasn't a stranger in her bed, but it definitely didn't feel like the person she had married. Everything felt very different, and she was aware that Bill was feeling the same discomfort of sharing a bed with her.

Fleur decided to try and make them both more comfortable, or they would never sleep at all, so she turned and kissed Bill on the cheek. "Goodnight, sleep well."

After initial surprise, Bill relaxed and returned the kiss to Fleur's cheek. "You too. Night." Both of them were a little while finding sleep, but it did eventually reach them.

Fleur wasn't sure how long she had been asleep, only that she was now being woken by Bill and that it wasn't fully light, and it was still dull in the room. "What is it?" she asked wearily.

Bill was leaning over her, as he had gently woken her up by shaking her shoulder. "It's Remus."

"What? Is he okay?" Fleur was suddenly very awake and fearful that the man who had seemed happier than she had ever seen him, when he had told them about his son, had somehow found misfortune.

"He's here."

"Why? What's happened?"

"He wanted to know if Harry was still here. He's got some troubling news," said Bill. "I thought you'd want to talk to him too."

In an instant Fleur was out of bed and wrapped a dressing gown around herself; she tried to briefly search her mind to feel for Hermione; the brunette was there, but all Fleur could detect was weariness, and not having time to think on it further, she went downstairs; once again she felt a little sick, and supposed it was nerves about what their visitor had to say. She found Remus Lupin seated at the table, with Dean and Luna also awake and seated. Bill and herself took chairs too; she felt a bit flustered and overly warm, but assumed it was the general rush in being awoken and wondering what the news would be. Glancing at the clock she saw that it was 5am.

"So, what's happened?" asked Fleur, unable to stall her curiosity, or fear, any longer.

"I had hoped to find Harry still with you," said Remus, gravely.

"He, Ron and Hermione left yesterday morning," replied Fleur.

"Yes, Bill told me," said Remus. He took a deep breath which he let out in a sigh. "Bill also told me their destination, which is something that I dreaded from the start."

"Please tell me what's going on," said Fleur. "Why are you here at this early hour?"

Lupin made a noise that was nearly a resigned groan. "As you know most of the Order are not free to go where we please, so sometimes news is a little delayed, or we hear things which are rumours that need to be investigated further. Yesterday morning, it seems that Gringotts was...infiltrated by someone or something."

"That was their destination," said Bill.

"The first rumours were too ridiculous to be believed, but we've now had it confirmed: Gringotts was essentially smashed up, when the dragon they kept for security in the deepest vaults broke free, killing several goblins and bank workers, and a Death Eater or two, before it was last seen flying northwards" said Lupin. "The exact number of casualties and specifics is still sketchy, but I immediately wondered if it had any true connection to Harry, because there was mention of him being there and being...killed; only vague rumours, though."

Fleur was still processing the information, and she couldn't seem to get past the deaths of 'a Death Eater or two'. "Was Bellatrix there?" she asked.

Remus Lupin regarded Fleur a moment. "As a matter of fact she was seen in Diagon Alley that morning, but I don't yet know if she was in the bank. I heard a vault was broken into and out of, so maybe she was stealing something for her Dark Lord?"

"No," said Fleur, feeling more flustered. "She was in her own vault."

Bill turned his head to look at his wife with a confused expression. "How would you know that her vault was the one broken into? And besides which, why would she need to break into her own vault?"

"Because it wasn't her," said Fleur, feeling deeply worried. _Hermione,_ she thought. _Please be safe._ She now slightly doubted the feelings she had sensed in her mind and whether she had mistaken weariness for being injured and unconscious...or dying, instead. _No, no, NO! You're alive, my love, you ARE alive. I would know it if you weren't!_

Remus looked to Bill questioningly; Dean and Luna kept looking at the others too, wondering what it all meant and just how dangerous Harry, Ron and Hermione's plans had been, if they were even considered to be this close to a bizarre incident on this scale.

"Can you explain what you mean?" Lupin asked Fleur.

"I suppose I can say, now, and in truth it isn't much. Hermione wouldn't and couldn't tell me what they were going to Gringotts for, only that...only that, they needed to get into Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. Hermione used polyjuice potion and became her, so I assumed that was the vault broken into."

"She did _what?"_ asked an incredulous Bill.

"I tried to talk her out of it," said Fleur, a lot more calmly than she felt. "Apparently it was vital to them that they get into it, for some reason."

"Well, there was no mention of Bellatrix dying there," said Remus, truly astonished by what he had heard. He had always admired Hermione's ability and intelligence and now he was in total admiration for her courage, considering what she had been through as well. "And I'm sure our side would have used that information, if Bellatrix was dead. I don't believe Harry, Ron or Hermione are dead either, because the news has taken too long to reach our ears, and we know the other side would be crowing about it. Hmm...I think they got away..."

"Where are they, then?" wondered Fleur. "Are they in hiding somewhere? Are...no...no, of course we don't know, I'm sorry."

"On the one hand I'm relieved to know they _were_ there," said Remus, thoughtfully. "And we can be pretty confident they are alive because of that, due to no bragging from the Death Eaters. However, I have no idea where they would have gone to. Did they ever mention any places in passing?"

Fleur shook her head, as did her husband. "No. I never heard Hermione mention anywhere else."

"We all have to hope they're safe and hidden, because I can't imagine it's put the Dark Lord in a better frame of mind," said Remus. He sighed and stood up. "I'd best be getting back and at least get word to your father, Bill. He's worried sick about Ron. I only hope whatever they risked everything for was worth it and they did, or stole, what they needed to."

Bill and Fleur saw Lupin to the door. "If we get any news, we'll let Dad or you know," said Bill.

"I'm due to be a guest on the radio again tonight, so I'll get a coded message out for everyone, that Harry's alive."

"How are your wife and son?" Fleur asked.

"They're fine," said Remus, unable to stop a smile spreading to his lips as they walked outside. "They're doing well, everyone's well. Which reminds me, I was going to visit today anyway. We think it's time Ollivander was moved for his own safety."

"Where will he go?" asked Bill. "If you can tell me, that is."

"It seems your Auntie Muriel has offered to house him."

"Woah! That won't be pleasant!" said Bill, with a laugh.

"Apparently she and Ollivander go way back together and she's looking forward to it," said Lupin.

"I'm not sure _he_ will!" said Bill.

"Anyway, one of the Order will drop by later to Disapparate him there, probably this afternoon." Remus Lupin paused as they walked outside; he looked up at the early morning sky before adding, "Something's going to happen, and soon. I can almost smell it." He shook his head, suddenly very self-conscious, nodded to Bill and Fleur and walked away to Disapparate.

"Can you?" Fleur asked her husband.

"What? Smell that something's coming?" Bill replied. "I wouldn't say I'm as talented as Remus, but you don't need a sensitive wolf nose to know something is brewing. It's like a spring in a clock getting tighter and tighter, so close to breaking, and when it uncoils it will be like a giant serpent's body thrashing against the earth."

"I...I feel it too. It can't be anything less," considered Fleur. "I don't think it's going to end in a whimper as it did when Harry survived You Know Who's curse as a baby. I think this time it has to be final; one way or another, and that usually means something on a larger scale."

"We'll get to it, when we get to it."

None of the household went back to bed for another hour, too disturbed and interested in the news they had heard. They discussed many things, related to what the events might mean and how it was likely to affect anyone else.

"Would Harry go back to Hogwarts?" asked Dean, as they all sat at the kitchen table drinking tea. Fleur was still feeling a bit warm, and opted for a glass of cold water.

"I bloody hope not!" said Bill. "That would be walking into the lion's jaws and Harry _knows_ that."

"I was thinking, if he could find a way in he would be a bit like a Trojan horse, that's all," said Dean.

"A what horse?" asked Bill

"I've heard of them," said Luna. "Very rare, and they only breed once every five years."

Dean stared at Luna not able to avoid an expression of bewilderment. "Err...Luna, I don't think..."

"I know the type of Trojan horse you're referring to," said Fleur, not wanting to make Luna uncomfortable or have any disagreements, when everyone was slightly on edge. "You mean the legend, not an actual creature."

"I don't know what any of it is," said Bill. "I tended to nod off in any lesson covering myths and legends."

"Perhaps you'd like to explain it to my husband, Dean" suggested Fleur.

"Well, it's sort of more myth than history, and became a legend. Hundreds of years ago during the Trojan War, the great city of Troy was thought to be impossible to defeat, or it seemed so to the opposing Greeks, who spent years trying to defeat it. They couldn't beat it by laying siege to it, so the Greeks played a clever trick. They made a huge wooden horse, and left it outside the gates to Troy to celebrate a supposed peace or show that they had retreated and given up. The Trojans accepted it and moved the huge wooden horse into the city and merrily partied. Except what they didn't know was the the horse held inside it, many Greek soldiers and as Troy partied and drunkenly fell asleep, the Greeks took control of the city...from the inside, opened the gates and let their army in."

"I see," replied BIll. "So you think if Harry and the others went back to Hogwarts, he wouldn't be expected and could do something from the inside, and disrupt whatever Snape and his cronies are doing for You Know Who there?"

"That would be incredibly clever!" said Luna, enthusiastically. "But I thought you said that there's only one way into Hogwarts, and it's not a way that Harry could use even if he'd known about it."

"I don't remember saying anything about...," but Bill was cut off.

"Well, you didn't actually _tell_ me. I heard you talking to Remus about it," said Luna. "I never meant to eavesdrop, but I went to come and ask you something and you were still talking to him, that night he told us about his son. I've not told anyone else, because it was obviously dangerous for us to know. Besides, I'm not sure how anyone can get in a position to use the only secret way in, anyway."

"That's very true," said Fleur. "I don't see how Harry could enter Hogwarts that way. He can't exactly walk through the gates either."

"I think when and if he makes a move, we'll _soon_ know about it," said Bill. "Until then, all we can do is wait and hope."

The day passed by fairly normally, although every person within Shell Cottage were thinking about Harry, Ron and Hermione. When they told Mr. Ollivander about his upcoming change of lodgings he had actually smiled warmly and told them that he looked forward to meeting Muriel again. Apparently the now elderly lady had to have no less than five wands over the years and when Bill asked why that was, Ollivander had smiled and told them: "She always liked to get her own way and when magic failed her, brute force prevailed."

Fleur felt sad to see Ollivander go, when Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived that afternoon; like all within Shell Cottage's safe walls she had been wary of the elderly gentleman and some of the strange idiosyncrasies and mannerisms he had, but he had been an exemplary patient and no real trouble to have under their roof. As he waved back at the house, and to Bill, Fleur, Dean and Luna, before taking Shacklebolt's arm and Disapparating, the Frenchwoman felt her heart lurch. Oddly, it was as if another part of Hermione had left and had gone further out of reach. Fleur took a moment to try and find that part of Hermione deep in the back of her mind and again all she felt was a distant blob of weariness and she was no longer sure if it was indeed Hermione and the younger girl's tiredness or her own now. She turned back and walked into the house.

Once again, Fleur felt warm, and touched a hand to her head, and felt her cheeks were warmer than normal. _Don't say I'm getting a cold or flu!?_ she thought, as she went to the fridge and poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice. Bill then walked into the kitchen.

"Do you want a glass?" asked Fleur, gesturing to the jug of pumpkin juice.

"Nah, I'm trying to give it up," said Bill, grinning.

Fleur drank deeply of the cold liquid and as she set her glass down she staggered. A wave of nausea had come over her and made her unsteady, before it passed again. "Oh...I..."

"Are you all right?" asked Bill, seeing his wife sway and catch herself.

"I think I might be getting a cold, so maybe my balance is off because of that. I felt a little unwell, but I'm okay again now."

Bill looked at Fleur. "You have quite a high colour." He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "And you do feel quite warm. Maybe you should go and rest."

"I'll be fine. Hopefully, it's only a cold," said Fleur, rolling her eyes. "I'll make sure to drink plenty and not rush down the stairs and be careful. I expect I've come down with it because of the stress and upheaval."

Like most early evenings they listened to the radio. During Hermione's stay and Fleur's need to be around the younger girl, Bill had made sure that he at least kept up with the broadcasts. Lupin, continuing to use the name 'Romulus', made his guest appearance in very cryptic style, to let it be known that it was believed that Harry was alive. The code word for Harry was 'Lightning', which some of the Order had argued was too obvious; but sometimes the simplest ideas were the most effective, and it wasn't an unusual thing for a witch or wizard to talk about lightning.

That night everyone seemed to need to go to bed at the early time of 8.45pm, due in part to their very early start to the day. Dean was offered Mr. Ollivander's room, but he declined saying he had grown used to sleeping in the sitting room and was happy on the floor or sofa. Everyone was very tired and Bill went to his and Fleur's room again, but decided to make up the armchair and footstool for his bed. He didn't want to create any difficulty by using Ollivander's room himself, though.

Fleur looked at her husband, realizing what he was doing and sighed, feeling many things, including hurt and shame, and then shame again at the very notion that she should be feeling hurt at all. _I expect too much sometimes,_ she thought. _This is how it has to be, for him and for me, and the sooner I accept that, the better it will be for all of us._ When Fleur came back from the bathroom she trailed a hand onto the armchair and rested it on her husband's shoulder as he sat there waiting to use the bathroom himself.

"Sleep well, Bill," she said.

"I always try to," Bill replied with a smile. "Not easy at the moment."

"I know," Fleur agreed. "But we must be ready for any eventuality at any moment."

"Which is precisely why it's hard to sleep!"

"See you in the morning," said Fleur, as she went and got into bed; a bed that felt incredibly large and empty with neither Hermione nor Bill next to her.

As Fleur lay in bed, she waited until she heard Bill settle down himself, before she drifted into the relaxing world she had created. She walked so fast through the field of long grass that she was almost breaking into a run as she approached the little church-like building. _Even if she doesn't say anything, I just want to see her,_ thought Fleur, as she imagined herself walking into the building.

Inside she saw, and felt, the glowing warmth and peace of the place and as she looked to the other end of the building she saw Hermione waiting for her there. Fleur stifled a chuckle as she imagined nearly skipping up to her lover. She found herself standing next to Hermione, who had been looking at something in front of her, where there was a long table covered with a cloth. A sword was on that table, which looked familiar, the glowing light from the building's candles and torches making the blade shimmer. Fleur thought it was the Sword of Gryffindor, because she was thinking of Hermione and her courage, and she had only seen a bare glimpse of it when they were staying at Shell Cottage.

"It looks very pretty in the light," Fleur spoke, hoping she wasn't saying it out loud for real and therefore disturbing and intriguing Bill.

Hermione didn't answer and continued to look forwards, not seeming to even register that Fleur was standing next to her. So Fleur reached out with her hand and touched the brunette's shoulder.

"Hermione?"

Hermione looked upwards as if she thought the voice came from the ceiling, and then she turned and looked at Fleur. She looked tired and pale and drawn and similar to how she had been during the first few days of her stay at Shell Cottage.

"Wherever you are, please be safe," Fleur told her. "I love you."

The tired figure of Hermione, nodded her head, then walked forwards to the table, picked up the sword, put it down again, and walked back to Fleur. "Don't forget that," said Hermione, with the slightest of smiles. She held Fleur's hand, lightly stroking the outside of it with her thumb. "And now I must go."

"Not yet!" said Fleur.

"I have to," said Hermione, and as she reluctantly let go of Fleur's hand she walked back through the building and out of the door.

Fleur felt slightly confused. _This is my imagination,_ thought Fleur. _I must be thinking too much on being prepared for everything and can't hold my thoughts in place._ She imagined herself running to the doorway and looking outside to wherever Hermione had walked to, but she couldn't see another living soul, only the field of long grasses and wheat. When she turned back, wondering if she could imagine a second meeting with Hermione and for something different, she came face to face with an older woman; a very upright, tall woman, and even with age she had incredible beauty.

"Grandma?!" said Fleur in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking _you_ that!" said the much older woman.

 _I'm blaming my lousy feelings onto my Grandmother,_ thought Fleur, knowingly. _That's why she's here._

"I have to go, now," said Fleur, preparing to step out of the building and out of her world of relaxation which suddenly didn't feel very relaxing or comforting anymore.

"Stop right there, young lady!" said Fleur's grandmother. Even here in her own imagination, Fleur obeyed that tone of voice. "You find and visit this place and yet you know nothing?!"

"I know nothing?!" replied a confused Fleur.

"Love awakens many things within us, my girl. And aside from that it seems you don't know when the time has come and I have to tell you."

Fleur shook her tired head. "What nonsense is this?" She was about to open her eyes and leave her relaxation world, but her grandmother in this place somehow sensed it and grabbed hold of her arm, upon which Fleur realized she couldn't actually open her eyes and leave. "What?!"

"I didn't teach you this to play here!" said the older woman. "I think the lines have been blurred at such a vital time and you have opened a situation you may not be ready to face."

"Grandma, I don't understand, what are...?"

"More than once I've told you, that, when you _knew,_ you were to come and find me," replied her grandmother. "However, it seems you don't know that you _know_ and it is time to ask. Fleur, you need to come and see me. We need to talk as soon as we can."

"I can't leave England, not right now. I..."

"You can't leave the one you truly love. Am I right? I presume it's the one you pined after a few years ago, this Hermione, yes? I always knew the Weasley boy wasn't the 'one', which makes this all an even bigger issue."

"It's not as simple as that. And I don't even know where she is. War is literally about to break out at any moment. I'm not sure I can even leave the country, and not without endangering a lot of people."

"What we have to talk about might well aid you to survive it all. And it might also save you from making the biggest mistake of your life. But, if you can't visit me, you can't. You need to see me as soon as you can, preferably in weeks not months."

"I'll try, Grandma," said Fleur, feeling weary and worried. "No one knows what will happen or when, only that something big is likely to happen."

"You were searching for your 'love' here, weren't you?" asked her grandmother, knowingly, gesturing with a hand to the building they were in. "Though your thought of her left before I arrived."

"Y...yes."

"If she is your true love, you need to be very careful. Don't rush in, my dear, tread very, very carefully, now. When we talk I think I can answer things for you, but I cannot stay here much longer without exhausting both myself and our coven. I have sensed you, dear. I have sensed changes and can see for myself."

"You're projecting yourself into my imagination?" asked an astounded Fleur.

"There's no time to explain. Look after yourself, my beautiful one, and do come to me as soon as you can; you are more like me than your mother ever was. Remember: be careful and be wary of your true love. Now I must go," said her grandmother as her figure began to become opaque, like a ghost. "Be strong and be true and remember who you are, always."

Fleur was left looking at the stone wall in front of her, where the visage of her grandmother had been. She looked to her left, back down the length of the building and as she looked the cloth-covered table sprang into flames which made her stumble back; even from back near the door, Fleur could feel the heat of the flames. She was too tired to think on it more and retreated from her imaginary, and evermore confusing, world of relaxation. She shook her head and found she was now able to open her eyes.

 _What is Grandma talking about?_ thought Fleur, confused. _Did I just make all of that up because I'm tired and worried about...well, about everything? Remember who I am? Do I fear someone using_ obliviate _on me and going senile? Actually a lot of people would fear that...logically. I need to stop analyzing; I'm tired, stressed, possibly getting flu and missing Hermione._

With a last slightly troubled shake of her head, Fleur turned over, settled her head on her pillow and instead only thought of her memories of Hermione, and the short time they had spent together. No confusing imaginary meetings, with equally confusing grandmothers, just real memories.

It was uncertain what were memories and what were dreams as Fleur lay there; such vivid images revisited her, as well as feelings. She was taking in everything she remembered about Hermione in the few days they had shared together; how her hands felt clasped within her own; how her lips felt, and her hair. Other infinite details followed; how Hermione felt lying on top of her; how she felt lying naked on top of her; the smooth contours of her hips and soft skin of her breasts. As Fleur reminisced or dreamed, as she was still unsure of her consciousness, but didn't care what it was, she could almost feel Hermione with her again, the weight of her on top her, their hips rocking gently in rhythm with each other. Fleur remembered or imagined how she had slid a hand down between Hermione's legs and felt the girl's desire, and then she could almost smell the scent that was uniquely Hermione.

Fleur's eyes flew open, she was breathing heavily, her face felt hot, and her whole body was feeling a degree or two warmer than normal as if from a fever.

"Fleur? Are you all right?" asked the voice of Bill; he had lit the tip of his wand as he sat up in the armchair, looking worried.

Taking a deep breath, Fleur sat up. "Yes, I think so."

"Bad dream?"

"No."

"You were restless."

"I was?" said Fleur, trying to compose her thoughts and body. "I...I suppose it's to be expected...with everything. I think it's this cold that's coming on, it's made me run a bit of a temperature."

Fleur was aware of how warm her entire body felt and that her groin ached. _Hermione, Hermione,_ she thought a little amused. _What have you done to me?! Mere thoughts and memories make me feel like this? You dangerous minx!_ She continued to feel warm, her skin flushed and slightly sweaty and when she took a sip from the glass of water from her bedside, it didn't feel cold enough. She used her wand and made the rest of the water icy cold, but as she drank from it, it still didn't cool her down or quench her thirst.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Bill, as he had seen Fleur tap her glass with her wand.

"I want something other than water. I think we still have some muggle cola in the fridge," said Fleur, getting out of bed. "I'm going to get one. Would you like a can?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Sorry I woke you up," said Fleur. "I'll try not to make any noise when I get back."

As Fleur stood in the kitchen, having crept down the stairs, so as not to wake Dean, she opened the fridge door and picked up a can of cola from the door; once again she felt a little queasy, and was eager to drink something icy cold. She used a quick silencing charm for when she opened the ring pull. She took a small sip and pressed the cold can to her cheeks and forehead, savouring the sugary, bubbling liquid as it passed down her throat and beyond. _This drink is full of so much shit,_ she thought, as she read the side of the can. _But it tastes nice and is cooling me down. If only I could take a drink to stop another very warm problem._ She smiled, as she could still feel her arousal and she drank long and deep again, sometimes holding the drink in her mouth for a while longer and then swallowing.

She glanced at the clock in the kitchen and saw that it was only 9.45pm; she had only been to bed less than an hour. With her temperature under slightly better control, and her breathing normal, Fleur made her way back to bed. As far as she could tell, Bill was snoozing, and she silently got back under the sheet and rested her head on the pillow, deciding to let normal sleep take her, and not to deliberately seek Hermione in any way, not wanting to risk embarrassing herself. _I hope this cold breaks properly by tomorrow instead of just making me feverish, s_ he thought, knowing that although a runny nose and a cough wouldn't be fun, it would signal that the cold was on the way to being over. _Is it bad of me to wish Hermione were here to take care of me?_ she thought, stifling a laugh, before settling herself.


	10. Called

10: Called

Luna hadn't slept in a bed for a few months, until the day before, and the comfortable mattress and fresh sheets felt almost _too_ comfortable. The past couple of years had indeed been strange and she had found herself in more and more danger, but did not regret any of it for a moment, as she felt she was actually helping, and with the people she had spent the most time with - enough to call them true friends - it had been liberating. To be listened to without the usual tedious quirk of the lips, or a glazed bored expression, because what she had said was beyond their comprehension, was refreshing; the people she called her friends actually seemed to want her around them, and cared about her views and respected her ideas.

If, in helping the fight against You Know Who, it meant Luna had to be taken prisoner again she knew that she would do it, without question; she would do anything to help her friends and assist the fight for what was right in the magical world. During her time in the Malfoy's cellar she had thought about her mother, wishing she could see her and tell her about what was happening. She wasn't entirely sure what to believe about any afterlife and when she did consider the possibilities it only then opened up subcategories to consider, about whether certain types of death led to different forms of afterlife. However, what mattered now was that, she was part of something much bigger than herself, and she was deeply involved and committed to it.

After a short doze, Luna found herself awake and thinking. Her thoughts moved to Harry, Ron and Hermione again. She had always admired and liked them very much and she would admit that she loved them: those three were special. She had wanted to help Hermione when they had arrived at Shell Cottage, but not really knowing how to deal with someone suffering from the after effects of being tortured - other than only talking with Mr. Ollivander when she found herself sharing the same cellar - she left Hermione's care in the hands of the vastly more experienced Fleur.

Luna had been certain that something was different between Hermione and Fleur after only a few days. They seemed to be uncomfortable around each other when someone else was looking at them, and there was a palpable tension crackling between them. Luna had supposed that Hermione might have had a crush on Fleur, which was completely understandable and logical, but the Ravenclaw wasn't quite sure if Fleur felt the same, or was uncomfortable because she knew Hermione had a crush on her. All she _did_ know was that the tension and discomfort was not due to the two women arguing or disliking each other, which she had sensed in the past. The dynamic between the two women was different in some way.

Shaking her head to clear the thoughts away, Luna was sure she had recently heard Fleur go down to the kitchen, probably for a drink. It was one thing Luna had become skilled at in the Malfoy's dark cellar: listening for footsteps and knowing the identity of the walker, however quiet they tried to be. She briefly considered going and getting a drink for herself, but decided not to as her thoughts drifted back again.

 _Hermione could have been a Ravenclaw easily,_ Luna thought. _It's a shame she wasn't. I would have known her a lot sooner._ Once again she was amazed, and in awe, of the likely thing they had been involved with at Gringotts. It reminded her of when she had been fighting side by side with them at the Ministry. _I hope I see them again,_ she thought. _I'm sure I will._

Luna got out of bed and went to her clothes, which were actually borrowed from Fleur, on the chair in the room. She put her hand in the pocket of her jeans; after all this time, and knowing that it was essentially defunct now, she carried the item with her: her DA token coin. Dumbledore's Army had been about real friendship and real actions, and it was for that reason she had kept it on her person. Thankfully the Malfoys had not been bothered to take anything from her other than her wand.

She used the new wand, which Mr. Ollivander had made for her during his stay here at Shell Cottage, and lit the tip, looking at the DA coin, turning it over in the light, almost wishing she could send a message to Harry with it. _That's silly,_ she thought. _I doubt anyone even carries their coins now._ She got back into bed, still holding the coin; as she settled down once more, she was about to slide the coin under her pillow when she saw it glint. There was no light source in her room except the natural dullness of a room at night. She turned the coin over and was about to attempt to slide it under her pillow, when she saw it glint again. She sat up immediately, used her wand and from its light she could see that the coin had been activated, and activated in a way that the members of the DA had agreed upon if any trouble was brewing at Hogwarts, or if Harry needed help. She had been so sure that no one still carried their coins, but obviously _someone_ had theirs.

The calm part of Luna thought through her options: run to Bill and Fleur's room and show it to them, even though they wouldn't know about the coins: Disapparate to Hogsmeade by herself and use the only way in she had overheard about: or... _Wait,_ she thought. _What if this is a trick and it's trying to lure me or anyone else into a trap?_

In a very short amount of time, Luna was fully dressed and creeping down the stairs, as quiet and stealthy as a spider, and walked into the sitting room. She had no real possessions of her own and with most of her clothes borrowed from Fleur, all she owned was her new wand and the coin, so if they decided to leave she would be ready to go straight away. Dean was on the sofa and making the deep breathing noises of sleep. She went over to him and touched his shoulder, giving it a small shake.

"Dean," whispered Luna. "Dean!"

"Wh...wha...who?" he said, as he woke up, and jumped when he saw Luna leaning over him.

"Shhhh!"

"What is it?" asked Dean, whispering now. "What's wrong?"

"Look!" Luna lit the tip of her wand and showed him the activated DA coin.

"Oh!" Dean sat up and grabbed hold of his jeans that were hanging on the back of the sofa, and to Luna's amazement he retrieved his own DA coin from his pocket. It too had been activated. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," said Luna. "It should mean something is going on at Hogwarts, or that even Harry needs help, but..."

"But?"

"There could be a chance that someone is doing this to trick us, and trap as many of us as they can. After all, several Slytherin students knew about the DA when that awful Umbridge woman discovered us. They might have made someone talk, like Umbridge did with Cho."

"You said you knew a way into Hogwarts? Heard them talk about it?" asked Dean, feeling a resolve in himself to act.

"Yes, but I don't know what we should do." Luna tapped her chin with her fingers, thinking. "We could Disapparate there now, and try to get in...as risky as that might be, or we could tell Bill and Fleur."

"I think that's what we should do," said Dean. "I think they have to know this, and then they'll know..."

"Everything all right?"

Dean and Luna jumped, and they both turned to see Bill in the sitting room; neither had heard him walk down the stairs. Bill considered making some funny comment about Luna not liking to sleep alone now, but he decided against it; firstly she wouldn't understand the joke, and secondly Luna was really not that type of girl. Besides which, Dean was decently clothed in shorts and T-Shirt and Luna was fully dressed; only someone with a very dirty mind could ever think of something else going on at that moment.

"We have a problem," said Luna. "We were about to come and talk to you."

"A problem, enough to wake us up?" asked Bill, intrigued, as he sat on the end of the sofa and lit one of the lamps in the room to a soft light. He had found sleep difficult after Fleur had been restless and decided to go downstairs and get a hot drink, until his slightly more acute hearing heard whispering.

Luna and Dean explained to Bill about the unwritten code and contact rules that had developed in Dumbledore's Army, and that even Harry didn't know all about it. They showed him the coins, and then got to their dilemma of what to do.

"This is tricky," said Bill, as he turned Luna's coin over and over in his hand, as if doing so would make it clearer what the signal meant. "I'm so glad you didn't go charging off without telling us, though."

"Yes, that didn't seem like a good plan," admitted Luna. "And it wouldn't have been fair on you and Fleur."

"I think we need to let the Order in on this," said Bill. "My Dad, Kingsley and Remus at least and see what they think. I'll go get dressed. Rather than leaving someone behind, I'll go wake Fleur and we can all go to the Burrow first." Bill stood up and made to walk out of the living room. "Let's all get ready, take a few things with us and then we can..."

Bill had stopped talking, having heard a noise and spun round; his eyes had moved to the kitchen. "Wands, ready!" he said in a firm whisper.

All three of them crept into the kitchen; Bill directed Dean to one side of the door, and Luna to stand behind one of the units, as he reached his hand forward to open the kitchen door. As he was about to open it, the door opened anyway and nearly knocked Bill over.

"Woooooo! Woah!" said the figure in the kitchen doorway, holding their hands up, with Bill's wand pointed at their head, and Dean and Luna showing themselves with wands pointed at the figure too. The person in the doorway wore a trilby hat and an old raincoat with the collar standing up, hiding the person's face.

"Luna, light please," said Bill, as the blonde girl lit the kitchen.

"DAD?" exclaimed Bill, as he saw his father into the kitchen. "What are...? Wait, is everything okay? Is Mum...?"

"We don't have much time," said Mr. Weasley. "We've had word. It's starting."

"What's starting?" Bill was suddenly confused.

"It's at Hogwarts, isn't it?" asked Luna, knowingly.

"Yes. They've got word out: 'Lightning has struck!'" said Mr. Weasley, nearly breathless. "Harry's at Hogwarts...and from what we can tell You Know Who and a huge gathering of his followers are making for the school too. They're leaving Hogsmeade to only one or two Death Eaters. I think He knows Harry's there at the school...Harry must have found Aberforth somehow. We have to get moving."

"Luna, are you ready to leave?" asked Bill, and when the blonde girl nodded, he added, "Tell my Dad what you told me about those coins, it seems it might be what you first thought. Dean, you need to get ready, I'll go get dressed and wake Fleur too."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Fleur?"

The Frenchwoman was vaguely aware of someone calling her name and stirred, to find Bill standing over her and the light was on in the room. "Wh...what is it?"

"It's starting," said Bill, not particularly anxiously, but firmly. "It's all kicking off at Hogwarts. Harry's there and You Know Who has an army of his followers heading there. Dad's downstairs, he came to tell us..." Bill proceeded to get dressed as he explained to Fleur about Luna and Dean's coins, and then his Dad's arrival.

Fleur had got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, feeling very groggy from the sudden news and being woken from a deep sleep; she went to freshen up and then dress, as she listened to what Bill was telling her. _Hermione should be there, s_ he thought. _There's no way I would be going anywhere else and if they sent me somewhere else I'd refuse to go!_

She walked back into the bedroom; as she was making sure the collar on her top was laying flat she staggered and walked into Bill. "Oops, sorry!"

Bill looked at his wife for a moment, and seeing her in the light properly, he saw that she actually looked ill, with a pale colour accompanied with flushed feverish cheeks. "You don't look so well. Are you feeling okay?"

Not looking at herself in the mirror, as she was concentrating on what Bill was saying and getting dressed, Fleur didn't know what he was talking about. "I feel a little warm. I think it's that cold I have coming. It hasn't broken through yet. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? I don't think you've ever had this said to you before, but you look terrible!"

"One can always count on a Weasley for tact!" said Fleur, smiling, as she walked back to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. "Oh...I see what you mean."

The Frenchwoman had dark circles under her eyes, which never happened to her even when she was genuinely tired, her cheeks were as flushed as they felt but were the only colour in an almost grey face. She looked a bit more closely and even her eyes were not as blue as they were normally. _Bill is right,_ she thought, _I look terrible!_

"Perhaps it's flu and not a cold I have, I've felt a bit sick," said Fleur, rationally. "We have too many other things to worry about now, though."

"If you're ill, and don't feel up to this, you could stay here, or somewhere near to Hogwarts to help the..."

"NO!" said Fleur firmly. "I will not sit back like a coward and watch my loved ones fight without me."

"You know how dangerous this might be? If you're not as alert, you...," Bill suggested, worrying about Fleur getting hurt if she wasn't feeling one-hundred-percent.

"William! I'll be fine!" said Fleur. "I know what might happen, and I'll be ready."

"I don't want you getting hurt."

"I don't want _you_ getting hurt, either. Your worry for me is equal to my worry for you, for your family and of course for Harry and Hermione. If we try to stay together, as the Order have always tried to keep people in pairs in our preparations, then I shouldn't be alone, and neither will you be."

"BILL? FLEUR?" called the voice of Arthur Weasley up the stairs. "Are you ready yet?"

"Look, we don't have time to discuss this," said Fleur, feeling a little worse than she did a few minutes before. "We're going to be fine, okay? And we're going to fight side by side with our friends."

Bill and Fleur walked downstairs, and Mr. Weasley looked up as they descended. "Merlin's beard?! Are you feeling all right, Fleur?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine...a bit of flu, that's all. No time to think about it, now." Fleur calmly brushed off the comment, wishing she had had a little more time to put on some make-up, not to be vain, but to stop every person she met being confronted with the strange fact that she _could_ look ill and less than perfect.

"I know just the thing to help you," said Luna. She went to a cupboard in the kitchen and opened the jar of honey. "Quickly, take a couple of spoons of that, it's a natural remedy."

Rolling her eyes at the fuss, Fleur quickly downed a couple of spoons of the golden honey, enjoying the flavour and knowing that, at the very least, she was getting a natural sugar boost, even if it would do nothing to stop her feeling nauseous and nervous about what they didn't know was ahead. "Right, shall we go?" she offered, wanting nothing more than to get on with things and get to Hogwarts, and she almost felt guilty to admit that she was yearning to see Hermione, if only it was a glimpse to begin with: to know the girl was indeed alive.

Time seemed to go sluggishly slow, as the Order members got together. There were certain plans in place for all kinds of eventualities, and they had to round up everyone they could, which involved a few minutes of delay. Fleur, Luna and Dean were left at the Burrow to wait with Mrs. Weasley and two other Order members, all sat around the kitchen table. They were looking at a map of the boundaries of the school, to refresh themselves on the terrain.

However, Fleur had other things to deal with too: Mrs. Weasley had immediately tried to fuss around her when she saw how ill she looked. "Maybe you should stay here, run the back-up plan and our rear guard?"

"No. I've had this conversation with Bill," said Fleur, tiredly. "I'm fine, it's only a bit of flu or some virus. I'll be fine."

Mrs. Weasley studied Fleur a moment or two more, a little uncomfortably. "Have you been sick or had a tummy upset?"

"I've felt a bit sick, but I think we all have lately, with nerves and not knowing what's going to happen."

It was then that Molly Weasley leaned in close to Fleur and whispered, "You're not pregnant, are you?"

"WHAT?!" Fleur exclaimed in her own whisper. "No, I'm not!"

"Well, it was just a thought, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, softly. "I mean, it would be quite normal if you were, a young couple such as yourselves. Are you still regular with your...you knows?"

"I'm not pregnant!" said Fleur, her whisper slightly louder than she had meant it to be, which made her aware of Dean looking away. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap...I..."

"No, no, it's not my business, I want you to feel well, that's all," conceded a slightly embarrassed Mrs. Weasley. "I'll go and see if Ginny is ready to leave now."

 _Pregnant?_ thought Fleur. _When was the last time Bill and I even tried to...no, that was too long ago, and it was worse than a drunken...oh! OH shit! I forgot about that party at the end of January. He was drunk and tried to...no, NO! Definitely no, in fact, because I haven't felt ill until now, and it's more flu than how I'd imagine a pregnancy. My periods haven't been regular for months now, but that's stress._

However obvious it seemed that she couldn't be over three months pregnant, there was still a little doubt in her mind and then her imaginary encounter with her grandmother raised a further doubt. _Was she talking about changes in me, meaning she knows I'm pregnant? And that's the 'thing' I should know?_ she wondered. _Is it different for veelas? Stop it! Stop it...you're only..._

"GINNY?!" called Mrs. Weasley. "Ginny are you downstairs?"

Luna looked through the rooms. "She's not down here, Mrs. Weasley."

A rumbling noise followed as Mrs. Weasley scrambled down the stairs. "She's gone! _Where_ has she gone to?"

"I think she had her coin," said Luna, knowingly. "So I think she's gone to Hogwarts, before we arrived here."

"On her own?! What possessed her?!"

"We don't have time to explain," said Dean. "I think we have to go too. You have to be here with the Order, we have to be there with our friends. We'll go and find her and make sure she's okay."

"I shouldn't allow you to go at all," Mrs. Weasley said.

"It might be for the best," said Remus Lupin, as he walked into the kitchen, with more Order members, Bill, Arthur, Fred and George Weasley with him. "Do you know about Hogsmeade and the Hog's Head? And can one of you Apparate?"

"Yes," said Luna, as Dean also nodded. "I've been able to Apparate for a while, even though I haven't taken the test yet. And I overheard you talking about the last way in a few days ago."

"Good. Apparate as close as you can to the pub's door and dive in. Talk to Aberforth and he'll get you into the school if he can. I think perhaps Ginny overheard this location at some point too, hopefully she'll be there. Take great care, and stick together," said Remus. "And good luck."

"I expect we'll see each other later," said Luna, confidently.

"Good luck everyone," said Dean, as he followed Luna out of the door, Fred and George patting him on the shoulder as he passed.

Fleur had to stop herself from following Luna and Dean; she wanted to be at Hogwarts as soon as possible. _What can we possibly have to discuss, which we haven't been over a hundred times?_ She thought. _We've prepared for so many situations for months!_

Kingsley Shacklebolt then walked into the kitchen, wearing a deadly serious expression. After Albus Dumbledore had died, everyone had looked to Kingsley as a new leader of the Order with Remus very close behind. They all hoped that, in a world without Voldemort, that Kingsley would become their new Minister; an office that Remus couldn't actually take himself due to his affliction; it wasn't a job Remus Lupin particularly wanted, anyway.

"I'm sure I don't need to explain what seems to be starting tonight," said Kingsley. "I think this is it, folks. We all know our 'order of battle' so to speak, but I think first we need to establish Harry's whereabouts at the school. So let's get to the Hog's Head and begin this."

 _Thank goodness he's not one for long speeches,_ thought Fleur, relieved, as she followed the others outside.

The next few minutes passed in a blur; firstly, arriving in Hogsmeade, to discover a handful of Death Eaters near Aberforth's pub, knocked out and tied up, the result of trying to deal with either Ginny, or Dean and Luna, or all three of them. It made the Order's initial entry into Hogwarts much easier than had been expected. Then there was much rejoicing as they arrived in the Room of Requirements, to the very heart of operations at the school.

 _Hermione,_ thought Fleur. _Where are you?_ The Frenchwoman had been scanning every room and corridor, as the Order made their way around the school to the Great Hall, seeing off surprised students of dubious intent, all of whom were wearing Slytherin uniforms.

Fleur continued to feel feverish and quite unwell, and it made the whole thing a continuous groggy journey, but her wand was out in front of her and she remained at Bill's side. She was vaguely aware that Tonks had appeared suddenly, to surprise them all and worry Remus, but she couldn't focus on that much. It was as if she had really bad eyesight and had forgotten her glasses; it reminded her of when she had become Harry and how strange it was to see the world in a fuzzy glazed way, before she put on the glasses. However, she was experiencing that similar feeling now, and her mind felt nearly as foggy as her eyesight.

She then saw Hermione; her body and mind could feel it before her tired eyes saw it, but everything was rushed and although she was sure Hermione had smiled and waved and might even have said 'hello', she then had to rush off to somewhere else with Ron; Fleur almost felt she had only seen her in her imaginary world.

Minutes passed into half hours, duels broke out, battle appeared to have been engaged everywhere and Fleur was still feeling she was in a dazed stupor, firing off the odd spell purely on instinct. For the first time in those hours, and the first time in her life, she had to admit that she felt unwell enough that she wished she had stayed away. She didn't feel good enough to help anyone, and hardly felt able to keep herself alive.

Unsure of how long had passed, and of how many taunting actions and words Voldemort had expressed, at one time or another, Fleur carried on, fighting off Death Eaters in a corridor. She suddenly felt pain in her stomach and chest, and nearly dropped her wand. Bill was still at her side and had seen her drop her guard; he stood in front of her and cast a shield charm.

"Fleur? Are you hurt?"

"No...I don't know...," she replied, as she felt at her middle, pulling her shirt out to check for blood. Maybe her opponent had used a curse that felt as though she had been punched or stabbed, without breaking the skin. The pain was very strong and her face felt warmer and her heart was racing.

"We need to retreat," said Bill, as he recast the shield charm to protect them both.

"No, we have to keep..."

"This isn't for debate, we're retreating!"

Bill shoved Fleur into an alcove recess in the corridor, where a statue normally stood, had it not been taken into service for the defence of the castle. He then cast a barrage of curses at the two Death Eaters in the corridor, finally leaving a wall of fire between them.

"Fire...not fire!" said Fleur, incredibly fearful and feeling the bile rise in her throat, which she only just managed to swallow down again, unsure if it was the nervous thought that she might have to run through flames, or that some unseen injury was making her want to sick up her heart.

"Don't worry," said Bill, taking her arm. "We don't have to go through it, but _they_ will if they want to follow. Come on, let's get you to the Great Hall."

XXXXXXXXXX

Hermione had felt many things as she became aware that most of the Order members had arrived at Hogwarts. Relief was one such emotion: knowing that they weren't alone and that they were going to have the help needed to fight, whilst herself, Harry and Ron could finish their work on the horcruxes.

When she set eyes on Fleur, her heart missed a beat; in fact it would have been more accurate to describe it as feeling as if her heart was straining at her ribcage, to be let free to join with Fleur's. However, those thoughts had soon changed to worry and insecurity. Fleur had hardly acknowledged her: she hadn't so much as smiled, and she looked dreadful. _What's wrong with her?_ Thought Hermione. _Is she ill? Or has she had an argument with Bill? Or has she decided it was a badly thought out fling and it was just our situation dragging us together?_ Before she had a chance to think on it further, or even to go closer, to so much as touch Fleur's arm, she was being dragged back into the struggle ahead and could only wave back as she followed Ron on their quest for basilisk fangs.

Her mind was not completely on the task ahead, even though she was very impressed with Ron's ability in imitating parseltongue, to allow them to even get into the Chamber of Secrets. She knew it was dangerous to let her mind wander at a time like this, and she had tried hard in the preceding couple of days to shut off her feelings for Fleur and to keep alert. So it was with surprise that she found herself standing in the Chamber and being brought back to the present by Ron.

"Err...Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Wh...what?"

"You were miles away, there. Are you worried about something? Are you thinking a fang won't work?"

"No, no. I was...just having a breather. Everything's been happening at a hundred miles an hour," said Hermione, with a shake of her head, annoyed at herself for allowing her mind to wander. "You've got a fang?"

"Yeah, I'm going to pocket a few more in case we need them later, but I think you should do this part," said Ron, offering a basilisk fang to her and putting a couple of other ones in his pocket, if it turned out that they were stuck for something with which to destroy the other horcrux Harry was looking for. "I did the locket, so it's only right you do the cup."

"It's all right," said Hermione. "I don't mind."

"No, it should be you."

Hermione gripped the basilisk fang tightly, as Ron placed the cup on the ground in front of her. She took several steadying breaths, which didn't really steady her much at all, before crouching over the cup, raising her arm and thrusting down to pierce the cup with the fang. The contact made her arm judder and feel as painful as if she had hit concrete. For a few seconds nothing happened, and then a roaring noise could be heard all around them and that was followed shortly by the cup expanding and shattering into pieces.

Ron's instinct as the cup was about to shatter, made him go to Hermione and wrap his arms around her protectively, hoping that his jacket might shield them both from shrapnel fragments from the cup. The storm-like noise writhed into an almost echoing scream, which was similar to how the locket had sounded to Ron as it finally 'died'. Hermione clung to him nearly overwhelmed by what she had done and the noise of the horcrux's lingering death.

After a few moments, which had felt a lot longer, there was silence, except for a dripping sound from somewhere in the Chamber. Ron loosened his hold on Hermione slightly, as they both looked down at the mangled and fragmented mess of what was left of Hufflepuff's Cup.

"Blast!" said Hermione, suddenly, as she inspected her forearm, which was bleeding from a long thin cut. "A shard of the cup must have flown up when I stabbed it."

Ron gently held Hermione's arm and looked at the cut. He then got hold of the bottom of his shirt and ripped off a strip from it; the material was already torn and didn't take much effort to rip further. He then, again, gently held Hermione's arm as he wrapped the cloth around the cut. They both looked back at each other, and Ron felt so empowered by their experience and how close they had been in recent days.

The red-haired man studied Hermione, and looked at the grime on her face and the couple of bruises to her cheek and jaw that she had picked up on their travels. "Well, it's done! You destroyed it!" he said, as he put a hand to her face and gently wiped away a small sliver of metal from her cheek, which was from the cup as well.

" _We_ destroyed it," Hermione corrected him, with a smile. "Wow, that...that was powerful. It was...was..."

"Bloody scary?" offered Ron.

Hermione laughed. "Yes, it was! And...and sort of thrilling too," she admitted.

"We make a great team," said Ron. "When we put our strengths together."

"Yes we do," said Hermione, feeling incredibly grateful that Ron was there, that she hadn't been alone and that they had indeed worked it out together and both contributed equal parts to the mission.

"Sorry," said Ron.

"What for?"

"Sorry I've been a total arse," explained Ron, trying to maintain eye contact with Hermione. "Sorry I've never really showed you how I feel, or...and then that Bellatrix thing...I couldn't..." He stopped talking because he knew words were never his strong point, so instead he put his arm back around Hermione and leaned in and kissed her.

Hermione had been taken by surprise. _What the...?_ she thought. Any other thoughts were clouded, including her worry over Fleur and her knowledge that she was technically in a relationship with Fleur, but for some reason she responded to Ron. That part of her which had pined away for years to get Ron to show that he had noticed her, finally felt triumphant and had she been forced to describe her actions, she would have used the word 'melted'. She melted into the kiss with Ron, and felt his care for her...felt his love for her.

 _Love?_ Thought Hermione. _No! I love Fleur. This can't be happening..._

Hermione flinched and the kiss ended. But as her flinch had coincided with a loud booming sound of an explosion above ground, it had hidden the real reason for Hermione breaking the kiss. Ron slowly extricated his arms from around Hermione, half expecting to be slapped for what he had done, despite him feeling the brunette respond.

"Er...um...sorry," said Ron, not actually feeling terribly sorry, but using the word anyway, as whatever rash action he took he usually had to apologize for.

"Don't be sorry," said Hermione, smiling at him but not totally paying attention to him. Her heart was thudding heavily, not for Ron, but for Fleur. It wasn't Ron she wanted at all, it was Fleur and always would be, now, and that made her feel even more weird. Her chest ached slighted almost like she had been running and had got a stitch.

Ron felt the ten ton weight of embarrassment and guilt drop off his shoulders, and he tested the water again by taking hold of Hermione's hand. "I've always cared about you, Hermione. I've just been too much of a thick shit to show it."

"Well, you have now," said Hermione, trying to retain the amiable expression on her face, but inside she was facing the consequences already. _What have I done?_ She thought. _I can't do this to Ron. He'll think there'll be more, that I want more; but I'm with Fleur. At least I_ was _with Fleur until we left Shell Cottage. She doesn't have to know about it...just one of those things. Although, I really should tell her...I must tell her. I'll have to tell Ron sometime...although if Fleur has changed her mind, maybe there's nothing to tell...oh shit, things have become so complicated.I love her so much, but what if it was infatuation for my carer? And she thinks it's that too? No...no...it's love. I love her! Shit, shit, shit! Why couldn't I have kept my hands AND mouth to myself at Shell Cottage and not tested the waters at all. Why did I have to get mixed up in anything?! Why...why does this all have to be happening during possibly the biggest battle in magical history?_

There was another loud explosion from a long way above, which brought them both back to the present once more. Hermione was grateful that she hadn't been observed as standing there like a stuffed dummy, as her thoughts raced from one problem to the next, because thankfully, Ron was taking some extra basilisk fangs from the skeletal remains, now that they knew it worked on horcruxes for certain.

"We should find Harry," said Ron. "Have a look at the Map."

Hermione opened the Marauder's Map which Harry had loaned to them and found him. "He's not far from the Room of Requirements, lets get there using some of the short cuts, if we can."

XXXXXXXXXX

Bill helped Fleur to lie down on one of the stretchers at the side of the Great Hall, which was, unfortunately, amassing several casualties, ranging from cuts and bruises to missing lumps of flesh and one poor student was missing two fingers. He tried to avoid looking at the couple of shrouded, body-shaped lumps at the far end of the hall, _knowing_ they were bodies but not wanting to know the details further at that very moment.

"I'll see if one of the school nurses is free," said Bill as he walked off.

Fleur closed her eyes, the room seemed to spin if she held them open too long now. _What a stupid time to get flu!_ She thought. She didn't really want to see a nurse, but Bill would insist, so she stayed quiet and let him do what he wanted to. As she waited, she decided to search for that part of Hermione in the back of her mind. She could vaguely sense her, but trying to even access the feeling of her gave her a headache, and she had to stop. _I think she's alive, at least,_ she thought.

"Fleur?! What's wrong, dear? Where are you hurt?"

Fleur opened her eyes to see Bill standing there with his mother, and only narrowly stopped herself from outwardly groaning. "It's this flu. I think one of the people we were duelling used a charm to punch me in the stomach...it's winded me, I think. And with this flu...I..."

Mrs. Weasley crouched down next to her. "You've had pain in your stomach?"

Fleur nodded. "And my chest. I was sure I'd been stabbed or had something thrown into me."

"Bill, go and get a glass of water for your wife," ordered Mrs. Weasley. She watched her son go, then lowered her voice. "Are you sure you're not pregnant?"

"NO! I'm not!" said Fleur, but as soon as she said it, the doubt crept in.

"I'm trying to help you, dear," said her mother-in-law softly.

"I...I'm sorry," said Fleur, tiredly. "I don't think I'm pregnant. I don't see how I can be."

"That's what I said for years and had seven of them," said Mrs. Weasley with a smile. "And at least three of them, I was absolutely certain I wasn't pregnant. I was five months pregnant with Percy before I believed I was carrying."

"Oh...well..." Fleur closed her eyes again, as Bill came back with a glass of water, which she took a couple of sips from, sitting up, very warily, in case she threw it right back up again. As Fleur sat there, she suddenly felt pain in her hands as if they were on fire and she dropped the glass of water as she studied her palms.

"What is it?" asked Bill, very worried.

"My hands...they feel on fire?!" said Fleur, grimacing.

Mrs. Weasley used her wand to clear away the spilt water and to stand up the glass on a nearby bench. She took Fleur's hands in her own and studied them. "I can't see anything wrong with them."

"I know...but I can feel it. I can feel heat." Fleur could feel her heart racing again, her chest aching and a feverish feeling go through her body and up to her head.

"We're going to get Madam Pomfrey to look at you. Bill, see if you can find her and bring her over," said the older woman, as her son was sent on another errand within the Great Hall.

"Don't mention pregnancy!" said Fleur to her mother-in-law. "Please don't mention it. I'm not pregnant, but if by some, small, tiny, minuscule, chance I am, I'm not ready for anyone else to know. Please?"

"You really need to be checked over," said Mrs. Weasley. "It might be your entire illness is due to your pregnancy."

"I'm not pregnant, remember?!" said Fleur, but she felt she was saying it as much for her own benefit as for getting her mother-in-law to shut up.

"Well, all right, but it might be mentioned anyway. Poppy Pomfrey is a medical professional, after all."

XXXXXXXXXX

Hermione had found herself once again clinging on to life; clinging on to Ron, who in turn was clinging on to a broomstick, as they tried to escape the Room of Requirements, which thanks to Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle now had fiendfyre ripping through it. This was like no fire they had ever seen; it had a life of its own and seemed to be actively seeking out things to burn. Hermione had felt her hands being burned, as they soared through a slightly flickering, less solid wall of fiendfyre to try and reach safety. She was holding Ron, tightly, which was painful and she feared her burned hands might lose their grip at any moment. She felt sick and the huge deviations in direction, to avoid being burned to a crisp, didn't help. One thing she did know was that, with either Ron or Harry, she was going to be as safe on a broomstick as with anyone; it was one skill which she had only ever acquired an average level.

It was at times like these that Hermione appreciated the solid, stubborn block which was Ron Weasley. It made everything all the more real, but she was grateful; once again they had relied upon each other for a magical problem that meant certain death without action. Hermione couldn't be angry at Harry for going back and saving Malfoy; however much she hated the Malfoys, she wouldn't wish a fiendfyre death on anyone.

At least they had found the mystery horcrux: the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, and as they all tumbled through the doorway, with the fire following them, Harry and Ron scrambled up to toss the diadem back into the rapidly closing doorway. The noise that reached them was a horrendous squealing, and then mercifully it was cut off as the Room of Requirement sealed itself.

Hermione looked around the part of the corridor they were in; they had seen Ginny on entering the Room of Requirements and asked her to wait outside while they wished for the room to become something else, in order for Harry to find the diadem. She wasn't surprised to find that Ginny wasn't there and hoped she was with other students or Order members. Draco Malfoy took one look at them, and with no acknowledgment of what they had done for him, he got up and ran off.

"What an absolute git!" said Ron. "Tell me again why we saved him?!"

"Because we can't leave people to die," said Hermione, wearily.

" _He_ would have!" exclaimed Ron.

"We don't know that," said Harry, taking heavy breaths. "But I'm not him. _We're_ not him."

All of them had picked up some burns, and Hermione retrieved a bottle of dittany from her beaded bag to quickly treat the worst of their injuries, and she also allowed a little to drop on to her bound arm, hoping it would help that to heal and stop it bleeding too. As she was sprinkling drops of the healing liquid on to Harry's hands and wrists, the dark-haired young man took a shuddering breath, and nearly keeled over.

"Harry?"

"It's him again...he's...he's in the Shrieking Shack," Harry replied, a few moments later, once more having an unwanted, albeit helpful, look into Voldemort's thoughts. "It's the snake...the last horcrux is that bloody snake. It's _always_ with him. I...I even remember seeing the blasted thing in my thoughts and dreams from before our Fourth Year, before the Triwizard Tournament. If we could get close enough to have a go at it..."

"No time like the present," said Ron.

Hermione took a deep breath, knowing that it was going to be a very long night, and hoping with all her heart that they all made it through. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to walk in on Voldemort, kill his damn snake and then kill him too. _Like I even could!_ she thought with incredulity. _But together, we might...maybe...perhaps..._


	11. Tribulations

11: Tribulations

Many things had transpired that long night at Hogwarts and the wheel of fortune had turned this way and that and at times had positively spun. Several people had died, perished at the hands of Voldemort's followers or by the Dark Lord himself, but many more lived. However, even the horrendous shock of seeing a lifeless Harry Potter, brought out for the defenders of Hogwarts to see, didn't have the desired effect.

Voldemort had hoped a dead Harry Potter would inflict the final crushing blow to his opponents, but it had had the reverse effect. Proud chins were set more determinedly and shoulders were straight and back and upright. Then the miracle occurred, which stunned everyone, and Voldemort the most, when Harry literally sprung to life. It made the defenders feel even more vindicated in their faith of what was truly right in the world and that their fight was worthwhile.

For most of the preceding time of the night's events, Fleur was virtually 'out of action'. She was continuing to feel ill and anxious, although she suspected that the anxiety was from the whole situation and being annoyed at herself. Thankfully Madam Pomfrey was so overworked that she didn't get a chance to probe too much into Fleur's recent medical history, and only ascertained that the Frenchwoman probably had a virus and was to take an all-purpose tonic.

Several times Fleur tried to rise and get back to being useful, even if it was only being based in the Great Hall, but each time she felt weak and weary and had intermittent pain through the trunk of her body. She finally decided to take the tonic, much to the relief of Bill, and immediately she felt brighter and more energized.

Fleur had stood up and was going towards a table where Mrs. Weasley and Bill were looking over papers, trying to make a list of the casualties, both the wounded and those unfortunate enough to have died, when she heard raised voices behind her.

"Out of the way! MOVE!"

"Wait a moment," said a voice. "Isn't that...?"

"Get out of the BLOODY WAY!"

"Do you need a hand?"

"NO! Don't touch him!"

Fleur turned round, as her husband rushed past her towards the voices. She soon saw that Bill was going towards his brother, one of the twins, of whom she was sorry to admit, she still had trouble telling them apart. One of the twins was carrying the other over his shoulder, his face red and sweating and amongst the sweat and dirt she could see that tears were rolling down his cheeks, cleaning lines through the grime there.

Mrs. Weasley had turned to the commotion by now and for a moment she froze. "Bring him here!" she then shouted, pointing to a spare stretcher. "Quickly now!"

Whichever brother it was, laid his injured twin on to the stretcher, as Mrs. Weasley went to her son's side and began doing some routine checks. Madam Pomfrey had rushed over and after mere moments, she had stood back up again, looked straight at Fleur, a hand against her own chest, expelling a sigh and a sad shake of the head as she turned and walked away. Mrs. Weasley hadn't even noticed the school nurse arrive or leave, as her focus was entirely on her son.

"It's no good, Mum. He's gone! Fred's gone!" said the forlorn and weary George.

"I'm sure he's just unconscious, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, as she was feeling for pulses, although with each of her points of medical evaluation she became more frantic. She listened to Fred's utterly motionless chest, and even watched it for a few seconds to make sure she hadn't missed anything. "If we can just..."

"Mum, he's...he's dead!" said a distraught George. "A curse got him! I...I saw it happen! He's dead!"

"No, he's not!" said Mrs. Weasley, as she continued to prod her lifeless son, looking for a sign she was sure she had missed, not wanting to believe it.

Bill had an arm around George, almost holding the young man upright. Even had Poppy Pomfrey not given her unspoken answer, Fleur could see for herself that Fred was indeed dead and every second longer they allowed Mrs. Weasley to doubt it, would make it all the worse. She walked up to Mrs. Weasley and grabbed hold of the hands that were still frantically looking for pulses in her son's neck, and wrists.

"What are you doing?" asked an annoyed Mrs. Weasley, as she pulled her hands from Fleur's grasp. "I have to treat my son, I have to..."

"He's gone," Fleur said gently, as she got hold of her mother-in-law's hands again. "I'm so very, very sorry, but he's gone. There's nothing anyone can do."

"But...he...we...," Mrs. Weasley struggled, and as the realization, which she had known all along but had tried to ignore, hit her, she fell into Fleur's arms with a sob.

Wars and battles often put people into extraordinary situations and circumstances, and had it not been a battle at Hogwarts and the extreme shock of a family death, Fleur would probably never have imagined she would be holding her mother-in-law to comfort her, as they all stood by Fred's body. She too felt tears down her face; the weariness and nausea of earlier had returned, but she fought it back, and she held strong for Bill and his family, as slowly, each of them wandered in and were faced with the reality.

For a few minutes, in the time Voldemort was giving them to decide what their and Harry's choices were, Fleur had sat with Bill, her arm around him as he tried to make himself believe what had happened. They didn't speak, but drew comfort from each other. Fleur had felt an ache in her stomach again, and in trying to ignore it, she looked up to see Ron and Hermione walk in. They had immediately seen something was wrong and Hermione had taken hold of Ron's arm as they slowly walked the last few steps up to his parents and the scene of disbelief and grief was played out again.

Fleur wanted to go to Hermione, to collapse in the girl's arms. At the very least she wanted to hug her, to have physical contact with her, and in the circumstances it was not going to look particularly strange. She gave Bill's hand a little squeeze, before she stood up and walked to Hermione who had a hand against Ron's back as he held onto his mother.

"Hermione, I'm...I'm so glad you're okay," said Fleur.

Hermione jumped, having not seen the Frenchwoman, being so shocked and distracted by what they had faced in the Great Hall. When she set eyes on Fleur, she felt her chest thud and released a heavy breath, as well as immediately dropping her hand from Ron. "Fleur?" Fleur wrapped her arms around Hermione, and felt the brunette younger woman loved holding Fleur again, however brief it would have to be.

 _To have her in my arms again,_ thought Fleur. _I've missed her so much. I don't know what I would have done had she been brought in instead of Fred...although that's a bad comparison...not...oh...I can't change how I feel._

Fleur moved back slightly, and quickly inspected Hermione's dirty and bruised face, and her general appearance. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, as it was obvious the girl hadn't lost a limb somewhere. She could see blood down the side of Hermione's jeans and must have given a worried frown as Hermione smiled at her and pulled her into another hug.

"I'm fine!" said Hermione, with a laugh. "Nothing serious."

The Frenchwoman had allowed her initial instincts to check Hermione for gaping wounds, or at least missing fingers, but now the veela within wanted to relish the other instincts she had. Fleur might not be able to kiss her lover here, but she could enjoy the second hug and the scents that were Hermione: the scents that calmed her and enveloped her, which she had missed so much in those few days. As she let the veela within her surface for a few restrained seconds, she felt a wave of nausea hit her. She ignored it once again and tried to absorb all that was Hermione, and which she knew would keep her calm. However, Fleur had to pull back suddenly with a pain that started in her stomach and rose to her chest, something that was familiar in the past few hours. She suceeded in not bending over double, but nearly retched, before stopping herself, hoping she didn't lose her stomach contents.

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione.

"I think I have flu," Fleur answered, as the pain receded and she didn't have to run away to vomit. "I'm all right. I feel a bit sick on and off."

"I'm sure there's something you can take to help," offered Hermione, as she was looking around for a nurse.

"No. No, I don't think my flu needs any attention," said Fleur, trying to distract any worry Hermione might have. "There are bigger issues now. Besides, I had some sort of tonic earlier, and I'm not feeling as bad as I was."

They hardly had any time to speak more before everything kicked off again, and then they had to deal with the death of Harry, which had been, thankfully, a short period of grieving, due to his miraculous return to life. He was back and he finally finished it, there in front of them all. Voldemort was no more.

There had been skirmishes, as the remaining Death Eaters fought their way to freedom - or to capture - but finally there seemed a moment when it was truly over. There were no more curses being cast, and the only bangs and thuds to be heard now were from precariously lodged masonry, falling or collapsing. Everywhere felt suddenly large and empty, almost as if Hogwarts had become a vacuum, where the noise and cacophony of battle had been consumed.

Several Order members and groups of students had split off to deal with the last few Death Eaters and remaining creatures whom had taken Voldemort's side, and gradually everyone gravitated back to what was left of the Great Hall. Many hugs were had, along with exhausted groans, as people were at last able to sit down and rest. Fleur hadn't strayed far from the Great Hall, as her energy levels were falling again; she almost went looking for a bottle of the tonic she had had before, because it had at least lifted her foggy mind and lessened some of her symptoms, but she couldn't see any nearby. She waited and hoped with all her heart that Hermione would come back in one piece once more.

 _If I_ am _pregnant, or something like that..._ thought Fleur, allowing that alarming notion to go through her mind again. _Then we can all deal with it together. Not just Hermione, but Bill too. But please let her be all right._ Anything _after tonight is something we can work with._

A few minutes passed, and gradually the Weasley family came back into the Hall, for which she was relieved. Bill hadn't been too far away, and had been fighting just outside the Great Hall and she smiled to see him safe and well. She shared hugs with Bill and her in-laws, thankful that they hadn't been hit with more loss, although she hadn't seen Ron yet. Time seemed to drag on, and Fleur assumed that Hermione was probably talking with Harry and Ron, which was logical; she was sure she would know if the younger woman had been hurt, and it didn't feel like it. The Frenchwoman found a bench with Bill and they sat on it.

"She's fine," said Bill, quietly to her. "I saw her in the courtyard with Ron and Harry."

"I thought she might be." Fleur tilted her head to one side. "That is to say, I didn't feel that she had...gone."

"Perhaps you might get more privacy if you go to her, rather than wait for her to come in here," said Bill.

"I'm such a bitch!" said Fleur suddenly.

"What?!"

"You're my husband, you've lost your brother, and you're telling me where my lover is and that I should go to her...I'm a bitch!"

Bill got hold of her hand. "No you're not. We've been caught up in a weird world, and there are many circumstances that make our real lives the complicated mess that they are. I'm not exactly Mr. Wonderful either," he lowered his voice further. "The times I've hurt you..."

"You didn't mean to...that was...well, that was different."

"Go and find her, Fleur," said Bill, as he gave her hand a little squeeze. "I have a lot of things to go through with the family...what with Fred..."

"...I should be here with you and if you want me here I'll stay," said Fleur, understanding that there was a lot of family business to be undertaken and that although she might feel very uncomfortable or out of place, she should stay.

"You're family, Fleur," added Bill. "I just think you might prefer not to be here for all the...well...grubby facts and...stuff. You can stay if you want to, but I think you should go and see Hermione."

"I'm here if you ever need anything, but I understand what you're saying," she answered, knowing that it was possible, with the grief so raw and near to the surface, that she might feel awkwardly out of place in such an intense family situation, or that Bill was even wondering if his mother might decide to pick on her to vent her frustration. She kissed his cheek and walked out of the Hall.

There were very few people in the courtyard now, and most were making their way to the Great Hall, in various states of fitness; from limps to extreme fatigue, causing any walking to be done very slowly. She looked ahead, and could make out Harry, Ron and Hermione at the end of the courtyard near the entranceway to one of the other courtyards. None of the three had seen Fleur, and while she was still several paces away, Hermione had turned and walked through the passageway to the next courtyard. Fleur groaned inwardly, wishing she didn't have further to walk after her. As she got closer to Ron and Harry she heard them talking.

"It's hard to explain," Harry said. "I need to think it all through before I even _try_ to explain it fully. I mean, I spoke with Dumbledore...or...I think I did."

"That alone sounds like a very confusing situation to think through. I'm really glad you're back, though, mate. I think everyone who's not a Death Eater are too," said Ron, with a grin, and when he looked round he saw Fleur. "Hi, Fleur, everyone all right back there?"

"Yes, all your family are in the Great Hall. They're okay," replied Fleur. "Where did Hermione go?"

"She was concerned about some wall going to fall over or something," said Ron, then he laughed. "She's always worrying and thinking about some guff or other..."

"Guff? What guff, Ronald?" said the mildly amused Hermione, as she reappeared into the courtyard.

"You know, all those things you're always fussing about. You were always like a teacher even when we were First Years."

"Ooo, watch out, Ron!" Harry laughed.

Hermione gave a mock, disapproving scowl.

"See? It's like going out with a teacher!" insisted Ron.

" _Going out_?" asked Harry, interested, with a raised eyebrow.

Ron went bright red, as did Hermione, and when she saw Fleur her blush turned a deeper red. "Well, you know...like people, who go out...shopping, but together...like...or mow the lawn...but together, like really good friends...," Ron spluttered.

 _Please shut up now, Ron!_ Thought Hermione. _I'll tell Fleur everything, but not NOW!_

Fleur had been watching the exchange, initially entertained, but then her amusement dropped with the last question. She stared at Hermione, at the girl's blush. Something wasn't right, something was telling her that something wasn't right.

"Bloody hell!" said Harry, mock coughing. "I'm dead for five minutes and you two get engaged!"

"Engaged?!" Ron said. "Don't be mental! Hermione and I...well, that is to say...we're..."

Fleur was hanging on to every word and feeling sick again, and all her exhaustion and weariness was catching up with her. She nearly asked a question herself, but held back, as her mind whirled around the possibilities. _Hermione probably had to let him think she'd go out with him, to shut him up,_ she thought, logically, and a lot more rationally than she expected.

"Oh come on!" said Harry. "You're even wearing his clothes, Hermione!"

"WHAT?" Hermione squeaked. "I am _NOT_!"

"Why is there a scrap of his shirt around your arm?" asked Harry, totally enjoying the attention being taken from himself and hoping that finally his two best friends had indeed got together, after years of hearing them complain about the other to him. "Was that for luck?"

"I...I..," spluttered Hermione now.

"She had a cut!" said an exasperated Ron. "A bad cut, from a flying piece of metal from that cup horcrux, which she destroyed, I might add."

"Aww, and you wrapped her arm with a piece of your own shirt, Ron? That's like one of those knights out of a fairytale," said Harry, enjoying his friends' discomfort.

"I thought the cut wasn't bad?" asked Fleur, trying desperately to keep her breathing under control. She assumed that this was the cut that she had seen the blood from earlier, but not had a chance to inspect, and if so, it had indeed been a bad one and not as light as Hermione had tried to brush it off as. She was very aware that in her tired and weary state, the veela within her was very near to the surface, and hearing that Hermione had been hurt like that, while she wasn't there, made her feel angry and passionate at the same time.

"It's all right, really it is. It did bleed a bit, as you can see on my jeans, but it will be fine," said Hermione. She desperately wanted to get away from the current situation and have a moment with Fleur alone. "Fleur, perhaps you'll come with me to look at this wall. I've put a spell on it to hold it, but I think it will need something more." Hermione turned to go back through the passageway and Fleur, relieved, followed her.

As they walked through the passageway and were nearly out into the adjoining courtyard, they heard Harry say. "Such a nice friend, to use your own shirt?!"

"Oh for fuck's sake!" said Ron. "We kissed, okay?"

Fleur froze, nausea rising fast and an ache rising from her stomach with it. _What?!_ She must have said it out loud as Hermione stopped and turned to her. Before the brunette said anything, they heard more.

"Are you sure it was a kiss?" asked Harry, teasingly. "...and she wasn't blowing some fluff off your shoulder!"

"I liked you better, before you died!" Ron said. "We kissed, okay? My lips, her lips, joined for a lot longer than a peck too, and she seemed to like it. Happy? Anyway, I'm going back to the Great Hall, are you coming, or are you going to dawdle around here?"

"The Great Hall it is," said Harry, as he and Ron walked off, their voices getting fainter, but not before they heard him say. "And the Hermione thing? About bloody time, Ron! Perhaps you'll both stop being so sodding neurotic about each other around me, now! Honestly...sometimes..."

Fleur had slowly turned to look at Hermione. _Is this the thing that's wrong?_ thought Fleur. _She kissed Ron because she wanted to? Nooo!_

"Fleur, it's...,"

The blonde woman stared at Hermione in the half-light of the early morning, not sure what to do, so she turned and carried on walking until they reached the second courtyard, which was empty of anyone, or anything alive, anyway. Fleur sat on a stone bench, and tried to concentrate on her breathing. _In, two, three...out, two, three..._

Hermione sat next to her, desperate to hold Fleur and kiss her, and knowing she couldn't, which then made her feel more awkward. "It's not what you think," she said, feeling dreadful. At the same time she felt she had done nothing wrong and she was certain and knew that she loved Fleur and only Fleur. "We were destroying that horcrux, and it was terrible and such a monumental thing. It was killing a part of Voldemort's soul. And Ron was shielding me from the splinters of metal from the cup being destroyed and it...the kiss, just happened. I...I didn't know what to do...I..."

"How about _not_ kissing him!?" said Fleur in a straight voice, with no hint of warmth or amusement. "That would have been something you could have done."

"I wish I hadn't kissed him, honestly I do...but it happened, it just happened," said Hermione. "It was the moment, the right moment that that kind of thing happens, when something huge happens and he and I were just there together." Hermione knew how pathetic it sounded, but she realized that it really had been the moment that had caused the kiss, and her history with Ron too.

Fleur's mind was reeling and she felt very ill. She knew she had to distract herself. "You got hurt destroying that horcrux?"

Hermione was relieved to move on to something slightly different too. "I was nervous about doing it, and rightly so. It was pretty powerful."

"What was it, exactly? You said it was a cup?"

"Helga Hufflepuff's cup. It...it's what we found in Bellatrix's vault at Gringotts," said Hermione.

"We heard about a break-in," said Fleur. "I hoped and hoped you were safe. As no Death Eaters were broadcasting your deaths, we hoped it was the case."

"It was crazy down there. The Bellatrix disguise only worked for a time, and Griphook left us for dead; the only way we got out alive was on the back of a dragon..." Hermione stopped as she looked at Fleur.

Feeling a twinge of pain in her chest, Fleur had grimaced and taken a couple of breaths, aware that she was feeling a kind of despair, and she considered it might have been from Hermione admitting the dangers she had been in and her closeness to death. When Hermione reached out a hand to touch her arm she shrugged it off. "I'm okay...so...you said you escaped?"

"Yes," said Hermione, regarding Fleur with concern. "It's a long story and not one I want go through yet."

"When you're ready, you know I'll listen," offered Fleur, feeling quite unwell and using a lot of energy to hide the extent of it. "Did you find any more horcruxes?"

"Three more," said Hermione, who had the grace to look slightly bashful, remembering that she had never told the Frenchwoman that their main mission was looking for horcruxes all along and not a hopeful side search. "Ravenclaw's diadem was destroyed in the fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement, something I never want to face again." Seeing Fleur grimace again, and guessing it might be because the protective veela was feeling affronted, at not being there to protect her, she quickly added, "Voldemort's snake was a horcrux too, and the last one was Harry."

"Harry?" asked a puzzled Fleur. "Harry is a horcrux? He has a piece of Voldemort's soul within him?"

"Not anymore," said Hermione with a sigh. "He had to die, by Voldemort's hand. We...we were hiding when Voldemort killed Snape at the Shrieking Shack, and before he died he gave Harry his memories to use in the pensieve in Dumbledore's office. That's when Harry knew the truth and that it was always going to have to be death in order for him to live and kill Voldemort...as complicated as that sounds. I can't believe he went off to his death, knowing that...knowing..." She tailed off.

Fleur could see Hermione was disturbed and it also disturbed Fleur, thanking fate that it was Harry and not Hermione having to walk to her death. As she felt another twinge of pain and nausea hit her, she decided to take her mind off it again. "Can I look at your arm? See that it's not serious?" she said, in as soft a voice as she could manage.

"I think I managed to get a few drops of dittany on to it when I was dealing with the burns we all got from the Room of Requirements, but I'm sure it looks worse than it is, if anything is left to see."

 _I wonder if that's why my hands felt like they were burning?_ thought Fleur. _It would make sense that I felt it too._

Hermione proffered her injured arm and tried to undo the small knot Ron had tied with the ripped ends of the shirt material, but couldn't manage it. She was about to pull out her wand when Fleur held her arm and untied it for her. As Fleur touched the material, her fingers tingled and almost burned, and she was filled with the scent of Ron, and it was then she knew for sure what was wrong and what had happened when she had hugged Hermione back in the Great Hall: the young woman had Ron's scent all over her. Fleur forced herself to take the remainder of the shirt bandage off Hermione's arm, but she could feel pain much worse in her chest. She swallowed hard, and felt herself begin to turn hot, feverishly so.

"It should have been me!" Fleur snapped uncontrollably, almost making a growling noise. "If you were with me, you wouldn't have been hurt!"

Taken aback at Fleur's sudden outburst, Hermione gently touched Fleur's hand. "We don't know that. This past night has been crazy. I'm just glad we both survived it."

"I thought you were mine, Hermione. I thought you were with me."

"I am!" Hermione quickly replied. "I _am_ yours. I've...I've thought of you so much since I left..."

"But you kissed him, you smell of _him_. You _liked_ kissing him...I know it...you..."

"For so many years I've wanted to kiss him," said Hermione, truthfully. "It took me by surprise and the whole situation was...it was crazy...I didn't stop kissing him...because.."

"You don't really love me?!" Fleur, now had to hunch over as the pain wracked her body. Hermione was deeply concerned and put an arm around her, but Fleur flinched it off. "Don't touch me! You kiss whoever is there, you don't love me! I gave you everything. I thought it meant something to you?! I...I gave myself to you, and you don't want it. I...I gave..."

"I _do_ love you, Fleur," said Hermione, feeling sick and her chest aching for Fleur. "I love you so much. I know and understand even more how much I love you. That kiss means nothing, and he'll soon know that I don't want anything with him. As soon as it happened, I thought of you and wanted you..."

"I've given myself to you...and you...you just throw it...away...you kiss...him..." Fleur then cried out in pain and fell off the stone bench onto the ground and seemed to almost convulse for a few moments, before going still.

"FLEUR!?" Hermione, went to the ground beside her, not knowing what was happening. Fleur's eyes were only half open and she was hardly conscious. The younger woman didn't know what to do; she couldn't leave Fleur and run off for help, she wasn't sure if she could Apparate them anywhere within Hogwarts, and wasn't sure where to take them; no one had a mobile phone and she didn't have hers either, so she did the only thing she could think of and sent up red flares from her wand, hoping someone would see them, as she frantically tried to see if Fleur had some injury she didn't know about.

In moments Bill arrived, which in a lot of ways wasn't all that surprising. He looked at Fleur, his face a picture of worry. He looked at Hermione and then back to Fleur. "What happened?"

Hermione began to say that Fleur and herself had been talking and she had had some pain and that she had fallen to the ground, but Bill had sensed something else. "What else happened?" He pinned Hermione with a stare. Somehow she knew that _he_ knew there was something else, so instead of trying to get out of it, she told him everything in as concise a way as possible.

"What did I tell you?" he said, angrily.

"I...to never reject her," said Hermione, understanding what he meant, and quickly added. "And I didn't. I told her the kiss just happened, that I love her, I still love only her."

"She's been ill for a couple of days, and hearing that you kissed Ron, with all this other stuff happening, has probably pushed her over the edge. Why did you have to kiss him? I told you not to hurt her!"

"I...how could being taken by surprise and being kissed by Ron hurt her?" asked an incredulous Hermione, who was feeling slightly wary of what Bill might say or do and feeling devastated that she might be the cause of whatever was happening to Fleur. "I told her it means nothing, and it was just the situation. I love her. I love her, Bill. I told her so."

"I don't know what exactly happens to a veela when they're rejected, or feel they're rejected, I was only warned by her mother and grandmother that she might get very, very angry and it was something that I should never do," Bill said as he was looking over Fleur for any injuries. "This doesn't seem right, though. We need to get her inside."

XXXXXXXXXX

Fleur was not completely aware of everything after she had sat on the stone bench. She didn't remember arguing with Hermione, or falling onto the ground, or Bill coming to her. She knew she must be asleep, or allowed to drop off, as she had seemingly dreamed or imagined herself into her calm relaxing field, and was walking to where she knew there was a little building. She went to the door and found the ornately carved door shut; she pushed against it and found it would not open. She felt frustrated in her sleep and began kicking at the door, and banging her hands against it. The actions made her feel hot and sweaty and exhausted.

Several times she found herself in that world, going to the door and finding it shut and either locked or barred; she was unable to imagine it open, or physically open it, and the building was closed to her. On about the fifth or sixth visit she remembered, she kicked at the bottom of the door and was shocked to find the door burst into flames. She could feel the heat from the flames on her face, arms, legs, hands and feet. _Not fire!_ she thought.

"Get back from there, you silly girl!" a familiar voice said.

Backing away, so she could no longer feel the heat of the burning door, Fleur turned to see her grandmother standing there, but looking very opaque and almost ghostly. "Grandma?"

"It's my fault," the older woman suddenly said, as she shook her head. "I thought you would see and understand, but you didn't. I expected too much and I should have explained it years ago and now I think something else entirely has happened. Hold on, my beautiful one. I'm coming to you. I know it's safe now and even if it wasn't I'd be at your side..."

Fleur could no longer see the relaxing world she always visited and saw nothing except blackness. She occasionally heard voices: concerned voices, frustrated voices and loving voices. Her eyelids were too heavy to open, and she didn't have the energy to speak or answer anything she heard. She almost felt she was trapped in a world where she was blind and mute. As those thoughts came to her, on and off, she would be gripped with fear and pain through her whole body, before it receded as she moved into deep sleep again.

XXXXXXXXXX

Four days after the Battle of Hogwarts -as everyone was calling it- had finished, Hermione sat in the master bedroom at Shell Cottage, looking out of the window at the sea. Occasionally she would look back into the room and at Fleur in the bed: a very gaunt-looking Fleur who was worrying all of the Weasley family, and their friends, with her mysterious illness. When no one could get her to wake up she had been taken to the magical hospital, St. Mungo's, but the medical witches and wizards there said that they didn't know what was wrong with her, but whatever it was they had nothing to treat her with. They suggested that Fleur was suffering from shock, from the events of the battle, and to give her rest and she would wake up eventually. The hospital had been inundated with cases so they didn't really have room for someone who was, in their opinion, basically healthy: that is to say, healthier than most of their other patients.

Hermione had wondered how she would explain her wish to stay by Fleur's bedside; she didn't have to explain it to Bill, but the others were a more difficult problem. However, she thought it through and simply and truthfully told them that Fleur had been there for her, after Bellatrix, and that she owed her the same care in return. That explanation seemed to satisfy everyone. She didn't have a home of her own to go to, thanks to sending her parents away, so she needed to stay somewhere anyway. She felt a little ill herself, and was sick once or twice, which she put down to exhaustion, shock from the events, worry for Fleur and she also considered that maybe Fleur had indeed had flu and she was experiencing some of the effects.

On that fourth day, with no change in Fleur's condition, Bill had come into the room. "I'm thinking I ought to contact her grandmother."

"Not her mother?" asked Hermione.

"I think this might be veela connected on some level," he said. "And she always spoke of her grandmother for that. Her mother had veela blood but didn't show the elements that Fleur possessed."

"I think her family should know, and it might as well be the grandmother," agreed Hermione.

"I'll look through our things and try to find her contact details," said Bill. "Maybe she'll have some answers." He leaned over and kissed Fleur's forehead. "Her skin is still so warm and feverish...I don't understand..."

Hermione moved to sit on the bed and used the bowl of cold water, on the bedside cabinet, to dampen a cloth and pressed it against the blonde woman's forehead and cheeks. "Let's hope your grandmother knows something. Or at least if a veela with a fever needs a different cure."

XXXXXXXXXX

The following day Bill was about to sit down and write a message to Fleur's grandmother, while Hermione had gone to sit with Fleur again, seeing no change in her lover.

"Why won't you wake up?" Hermione asked the sleeping form of Fleur, as she tenderly stroked a hot cheek with the back of her hand, almost asking the air, as she knew the blonde woman probably couldn't hear her. "I love you. You have to know that; there is no uncertainty. I love you and only you. Please come back to us, back to _me_. Despite how close we've been I still don't know much about you. I have so much I want to learn about you, so much time I want to spend with you."

As they had been doing, since they were allowed to take Fleur home, Hermione was able to get some fluids into the blonde woman; she didn't awaken but was capable of swallowing on reflex. Hermione felt forlorn and guilty, knowing that her small moment of letting her guard down around Ron might have led to this: pushing an already ill Fleur over the edge. "Please don't say it's my fault?!" she said to the air.

"It's not, it is _my_ fault!"

Hermione spun round to see a tall, elegant and beautiful older woman standing in the doorway to the bedroom. "You're...you're Fleur's grandmother?" she spluttered. She then tried to speak in French, but only managed to say a couple of sentences before the woman held up her hand.

"No, it is not necessary. English is fine with me. I speak it more than French these days," said the new arrival, speaking an almost accentless English. The woman closed the bedroom door and sat on the bed beside her granddaughter and held her hand, touched her forehead and seemed to be checking her over.

"Oh...oh...okay," Hermione said, feeling very slow and awkward. "That was quick!?"

"What do you mean?"

"Bill was only then writing to you?!"

"I was on my way here, anyway," replied the older woman.

"Where _is_ Bill?" asked Hermione. "He knows you're here, doesn't he?"

"This room is not for Bill. Not at this moment, and he knows that."

"Oh...do you want me to leave?"

"No. If I am right you need to be here too."

"You...err...you speak perfect English?" asked Hermione, still metaphorically scrabbling around to find her footing.

"I studied at Cambridge, many, many years ago to enlighten my non-magical interests. I speak many languages, some not even official, but I tend to speak English the most. I've always spoken it with Fleur." The woman gave a half smile.

"So Mrs...Madam...what do I...?"

"No titles. Marriage was a long ago situation for me. To give you my full name would take too long, but you may call me Aimée."

"Aimée, do you know what's wrong with her? She was supposed to have felt ill for a day or so and got worse, and then...and then the battle happened and afterwards we...had a disagreement...well, that is to say," Hermione faltered and blushed. "She wasn't happy about something that happened, even though it didn't change...err..."

"There's no need to dither around, I know what you are, and..."

"What I am?" Hermione suddenly had awful thoughts that, although Fleur had spoken of it being common for veelas to have women partners, that perhaps this particular veela disapproved.

"If you would let me finish," Aimée said, but not unkindly. "You are the one: her true match. The one she set her heart on years ago. It is fairly rare these days for the object of that match to ever reciprocate and we therefore settle for the love of - I hate to say it - mere humans. When the true one is a woman, things are very much more powerful."

"Oh," was all Hermione could reply with, still unable to hide a blush.

"It is my fault for expecting, and perhaps hoping for, too much. I had seen so much more of the veela in Fleur than her mother, to an extent that I felt sure my granddaughter possessed much more than usual. I told her that when she came to a point of 'knowing' that she had to see me to learn more, because I was so sure that it would come to her as it would a more strongly blooded veela. I think she reached that point and was unaware of a lot of things." Aimée said all of this as she continued to check the sleeping Fleur, and as she finished talking she briefly closed her eyes, sniffed a couple of times, held her granddaughter's hands, then placed them neatly back on the turned back sheets. "My experiment of wonderment with my granddaughter was not the right thing to do. And I have endangered her by not having the slightest idea that other things would happen too: things that I was sure would only ever be imaginative dreams."

"Do you know what's wrong with her?" Hermione asked again, hopefully.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do. It's you."

"Me?" Hermione's voice came out in a high tone. "So, I _am_ to blame for this. I never should have..."

"No my dear girl. You're the cause, but the fault is mine; the blame is mine."

Hermione raised a hand to her head, expecting it to ache at any moment. "Cause? I'm sorry, I don't know much about veelas. I don't understand. That is to say, if it _is_ veela related?"

"There will be time for more details later," Aimée said. "For the moment, I can guess, and know, that you and my granddaughter consummated your relationship, did you not?"

"Err...well..." Hermione blushed profusely again. "Yes."

"And going by her searching for you in the other world, you left her soon after to take your part in this awful war?"

Hermione nodded, fascinated by what the comment 'the other world' meant, but decided not to confuse the matter further and tried to concentrate on what the older woman was saying to her now. "I only had a couple of days with her after...after we reached that point."

"I never considered it possible," Aimée sighed, almost muttering to herself as much as to Hermione. "I thought with the other thing, she would have realized she had reached that point to come and ask me, or at least write and ask me, but to have that other thing happen too?! She was so unprepared! I suppose young people today tend to just dive in with a lack of awareness. I expected too much."

"Should we have waited?" asked Hermione, trying without success to stop blushing, but knowing that her having made love with Fleur was somehow an issue now.

"Ideally, yes. In an _ideal_ world she would have brought you with her to me. I would have told her what she and you needed to know and then you could have stayed the three weeks you needed among the veelas in a safe place, so none of this would have happened."

"Do I need to be approved by the veelas?" Hermione wondered. "Or presented officially, or something?"

"That's just for show; some of our community's more nosy members would insist on it, but it would have been for Fleur's health first and foremost." Once again Aimée sighed. "After you and Fleur first made love you started to seal an attachment to each other, which is particularly strong in female partnerships with those of veela blood. You need to be with each other every day for three weeks to complete the attachment."

"Three weeks?"

"I know, it does sound a bit excessive." Aimée gave a half smile. "If you are apart before then it is as if you have rejected the veela. It is like you have broken their heart, or taken away a part of them, and the veela within does not understand that you will be back together again soon. This is partly what has happened to Fleur. What was the disagreement, you spoke of?"

Feeling very sheepish, Hermione explained the situation with Ron. "I told her I loved her. I told her I was still hers, but she didn't listen, and then...this happened. And she's been like this ever since."

"She was jealous and convinced you had actually rejected her, even though you reassured her about it. Physically, within herself, her instincts were in such a muddle that she became fixated that you had left her, or didn't love her, as much as she thought. To physically love a true match, then be parted, is indeed a very serious situation and the delusion overtook her."

"So I am to blame, really?"

"No, no. How could you be? Both of you did not know. She always told me that you didn't even like her that much and that she was committed to making her marriage work. This was indeed a surprise turn of events."

"I knew I shouldn't reject her. I thought I hadn't but...poor Fleur," Hermione found tears in her eyes. "What's happening to her, is she asleep in shock?"

"Partly," said Aimée, and amazingly she added, just as calmly, "Her body is shutting down."

"What?" Hermione nearly yelped. "No. She can't die, that's...that's..."

"Not going to happen," said Aimée. "Now I'm here, you're here and we all know what's going on."

"What do you need? Ingredients for a potion? Whatever you need, I'll get it," said Hermione, tears now wet on her cheeks and still not entirely sure of what wasgoing on.

"I need you both to come back to France with me, now. You must get a message to your family once we're in France. I will write a message to them too if..."

"I don't have any family," said Hermione. She didn't have the time, or the desire, to explain what she had done to her parents. She had thought of them on and off ever since she had parted from them, while trying to stay focused and not allowing herself to brood over the situation, but she had resigned herself to perhaps never finding them again and if she did, that she might not be able to reverse the spell she had performed on them. So she said, as vaguely and as simply as she could, "It's complicated, but I don't have any family, now."

"Ah," said Aimée. "I'm sorry..."

"What about Bill?" Hermione quickly asked, not wanting to dwell on her parents at that moment. "What do we tell people?"

"Where you need to be, there are not many men, and it would be unwise for Bill in particular to be there. I will explain it to him; he's always seemed a bright man, I'm sure he will accept it. He has to, for Fleur's sake. For others, it should be enough that I have requested you to accompany me and help, as you were here already. Prepare anything you need and be ready to leave in a few minutes. I'll go and talk to Bill."

Aimée left the room, leaving Hermione slightly stunned, but relieved that there was an answer for Fleur's condition, however embarrassing or awkward the situation was going to become. She felt nauseous again, but swallowed the bile back down to concentrate on what she had to do and what might happen next. She had no parents to explain her actions to, and Harry and Ron would have to wait. She quickly gathered her things and put them into her beaded bag; she didn't have many belongings left. She then packed some of Fleur's things too. She looked back at the sleeping Fleur and leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Everything is going to be okay," she whispered, more for her own sake than her lover's.

Bill walked into the room, with a strained look on his face, as he sat on the bed next to Fleur. "I can't believe this. I should be with her as well."

"Things have changed," Aimée said as she came back into the bedroom. "It is beyond what anyone can do in this country. As I explained to you, it is up to me and Hermione. Fleur needs to be among veelas to be well again."

"Can't I stay somewhere nearby?" Bill asked. "Use a tent in the next village or something?"

"I'm sorry, this is how it has to be."

Hermione felt very sorry for Bill, and felt incredibly bad for being the true 'one' for Fleur and seeming to be the cause and cure for Fleur's current state of health. She didn't know whether she could say anything to him or not, but he saved her the trouble of wondering.

"Look after her, Hermione. Please look after her." Bill fixed her with a penetrating gaze, not angry, but determined and worried. "Please write to me, and if anything, anything at all happens...let me know, yeah?"

"Of course," said Hermione. "I feel bad leaving you like this, and having to face all the others and their questions."

"I'll manage it. Besides, a lot of it isn't their business," said Bill. "I'll deal with it."

"We have to go, now," said Aimée, as she looked on Bill kindly. "My granddaughter is very special to me, and you know that everything will be done to help her: _everything_."

Bill held one of his wife's hands and kissed it, then kissed her hot cheek. "See you again, soon," he said, as he stood back, his jaw twitching as he tried not to grind his teeth and to maintain control of his emotions.

Aimée sat on the bed next to Fleur, taking a firm grip on the younger woman's arm, and directing Hermione to take her other arm, and they were gone from the bedroom at Shell Cottage in a flash.

 **A/N: As far as I know there's no great detail about Fleur's grandmother, so I've elaborated more with my own ideas. Don't worry, this is not heading for one of those weird and annoying memory loss stories. It's a bit different to that...**


	12. Aimée

**A/N: If you get annoyed by this chapter and the next one, remember that no situation is forever. ;)**

12: Aimée

In a matter of moments, Hermione felt firm ground under her feet and after blinking away the initial confusion and momentary motion sickness, she was aware that they were in a bedroom of what looked like a quaint old house. The ceiling was fairly low, and the plaster on the walls had a slightly lumpy look to it, which was characteristic of old houses and cottages. The sun and a faint breeze were coming through the small open window, making the curtain move slightly.

Aimée settled Fleur into the large double bed, and made her comfortable. Fleur hadn't stirred once, not even from the usually abrupt sensation of being Side-Along Apparated. Her eyes were still closed and her breathing was so shallow, that Hermione stared at her lover, to make sure her chest was moving.

"Hermione, come with me," said Aimée, as she moved to the door of the room.

"Can't I stay with her?"

"She's not going anywhere," said Aimée. "For the moment she is safe. She's very weak, but nothing will happen in the next hour, but I require your assistance."

Hermione reluctantly followed Fleur's grandmother out of the door, across a landing, down some wooden stairs and through a hallway to a kitchen. It was a fairly large kitchen and as Hermione passed a window she looked out onto fields: acres and acres of fields and meadows with woodlands beyond that.

"Is this a farmhouse?" asked Hermione.

"It could be called that," answered Aimée. "Although we do not farm the regular things here. You'll find a few chickens and cows and the things we need for basics, but our lands are used for the things we need."

"We?"

"This house is only one of many spread out in this area, hidden from non-magical people and non-veelas."

"Is it only veelas living around here?"

"Yes, mostly," replied Aimée. "We say veelas, but we're all part veelas to varying degrees, and of course any partners live here too. These days there are more and more part veelas: there has to be. We all make a living by the things we're capable of growing and cultivating and producing: certain specialist ingredients, particular to this area and managed with our skills. It's allowed this small community autonomy with the outside world and to do things on our own terms."

Hermione followed her host through to an adjoining room off from the side of the kitchen, which felt noticeably cooler and was slightly darker. There were jars, bottles, phials and pans everywhere. In an ordinary old house, this might have been a place to dry herbs, or even to store food, but in this house with this occupant, Hermione could see that it was more of a laboratory or workroom for magical ingredients and potions.

"Are you going to make a potion for Fleur?" asked the ever inquisitve Hermione.

"We need to give her an initial potion to halt her condition and stop it from becoming worse, and to begin to give her body the hint that it needs to heal."

"It won't make her better, completely?" asked a very worried Hermione.

"No. After she has the potion, I need to call on the services of one our fellow veelas, to help with the next stage," answered a very calm Aimée. "After then, if Fleur does not need further potions or further healing, then we can move forwards from there. Right now, I need you to help me with this first potion; it's always faster with two people working on it. And the faster we get this done, the faster we can help Fleur."

For the next few minutes Hermione did all that she was instructed without question: cutting herbs, crushing ingredients and boiling syrups to add to the final potion. While waiting for certain ingredients to cool or simmer, the older woman asked a few more questions about what had happened leading up to Fleur's illness and Hermione answered truthfully, knowing that something she said might be useful for the healing of Fleur in some way. After nearly forty minutes, which seemed a lot longer, they had a green potion which Aimée then altered, with a wave of her wand, to a watery solution, to make it easier to get into Fleur. Both women went upstairs again and Hermione held Fleur's hand as Aimée gently tipped some of the potion into her granddaughter's mouth, making sure she swallowed the amount she needed to.

When Aimée was satisfied that she had given Fleur the potion properly, she moved to a chest of drawers in the room and picked up the receiver of a phone, which Hermione was surprised to see. It was a very old, rotary type of phone, and the Frenchwoman only dialled two numbers. "Hello. I have Fleur at the house, I need your help, now." She put down the receiver and noticed that Hermione was watching her. "I've asked my friend to visit. She's been waiting for the call since I left."

"You have phones?"

"Only linked between our community, using magical connections just for here; it doesn't seem to work for calling muggle phones, I'm sorry to say: no wires. It's an idea a friend of mine had to make it easier for us to contact each other, using the minimum of magic. I bought several of these old phones from an antiques market years ago. They do what we need them to do."

"I'm surprised to see a phone at all. I'm used to owls, hawks and pigeons only, in the magical world, normally," admitted Hermione.

"Yes, well, the English have always been a bit quaint about things like that!" replied Aimée with a smile. "Anyway, my friend will be here very soon."

"I'm sorry, but I don't know much about veelas," said Hermione. "Does your friend have more skill with certain types of magic? Or..."

"Not all veelas are advanced, accomplished witches," said Aimée, patiently. "Not witches in the sense of you and I, and Fleur. We have our own brand of magic too, and some of us are so strong in that, but have less skill with conventional magic. I was more of a conventional witch, my friend isn't; she learned the basics of magic and is very good, in fact, but she chose to pursue her own talents. She has skills in other things, which include healing our own kind and she has dealt with this type of case a few times before. She knows what to do."

"Does Fleur's mother know what's happening?" asked Hermione. "Wouldn't she want to be here, if she knew?"

"My daughter knows," said Aimée.

"Is she going to visit?" Hermione felt a pang of nerves at the thought of Fleur's mother, Apolline, visiting. She had seen a little of Apolline at the Burrow for Bill and Fleur's wedding and somehow, this elegant, kindly older woman in front of her, made Hermione feel relatively comfortable, but the thought of Fleur's imposing mother made her nervous.

"No. Not yet."

"Oh," said Hermione. She seemed to understand what wasn't said too: that Fleur's mother would visit if things became worse with her daughter or something else happened.

"My daughter has more veela blood than my granddaughter, but not very much of it ever surfaced. And what has, she has mostly ignored all her life, except for the parts she can use to her advantage, and for what is happening now, she wouldn't know what to do." Aimée sat next to Fleur and gently smoothed back some loose strands of the younger woman's blond hair. "This was always my responsibility. We agreed that if Fleur was receptive to her veela blood, that I would be the one to teach her more. I've failed in that..."

"I don't think you've failed," said Hermione, as she stood by the open window. Aimée looked round to her. "I don't see how you could have. Fleur often said that it was unknown, what she might or might not inherit, or experience, from her veela blood."

"I should have told her everything, years ago," said Aimée, as she turned back to Fleur. "Not foolishly expecting her to discover the moments when she needed, and recognized, the time for advice."

"She would never think badly of you," said Hermione. "I...I haven't known her long, in the deeper sense, but she wouldn't think like that, I know she wouldn't. Things just happen, and as such, I'm as much to blame."

This rather deep conversation, with where the blame might be best placed, and with the two conscious women in the room almost trying to debate which of them was more at fault, was ended when they heard a sound downstairs.

Aimée got up and was then walking through the bedroom doorway as a voice called up the stairs. "Aimée? Are you up there?"

"Yes, please come up."

Hermione looked at Aimée and then thought about the woman's voice calling up the stairs, and it hit her that both were speaking English and Aimée had used English on the phone. "Have you used a translation charm, so we can all understand each other?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, our visitor called up the stairs in English?" queried Hermione. "I speak quite good French, so if you'd rather not use a charm I'm fine. I'll ask if I don't understand something."

Before more could be said, a very tall woman walked through the doorway, having to duck to avoid hitting her head on the lower than normal lintel. Fleur's grandmother was tall, but this woman was well over six feet tall. It was hard to put an age to her, although she appeared younger than Aimée. She had her blond hair in a short bob cut just below her ears, and was wearing a blue silk shirt and stone-coloured linen trousers.

"Aimée, how long have you been back?" asked the newcomer.

"Maybe forty minutes," replied Aimée. "If I'd left it another day I fear it would have been much more difficult."

"Have you given the potion to her?"

"Yes, a short time before I called you."

"Poor thing," said the tall woman, as she went closer to the bed and gently laid her hand on Fleur's forehead. "I haven't seen her for nearly two years, and she looked much healthier then." After a few moments of quiet, the woman spoke again. "You were in time, Aimée. She's very, very weak, but the potion has stopped things, for now."

Hermione was left feeling a bit like an extra Santa at a Christmas party, as she stood to one side, by the window, looking from one woman to the other, full of questions and too wary and timid to voice any. The newcomer was speaking with an accent, which didn't sound like a French one, and that added to her growing list of questions and wonderings.

"Love, love, love," said the woman, followed by a sigh. "It is both joy and pain for us all, but especially for _us_."

"Yes, and my fault entirely that I never told her everything," said Aimée.

"Oh, Aimée, stop it! You weren't to know and she wasn't to know! It's just one of those things. You taught her many things," the woman stood up again. "And the main thing is you brought her back in time."

"She'll be okay?" asked Hermione, unable to stay quiet.

The two older women turned to look at Hermione. "Yes...yes...she...will, she'll...," said the very tall woman as she looked at Hermione. "Well, you must be _her_?"

Hermione was about to answer when Aimée got in first, and what she said made the brunette blush. "This is Hermione. This is Fleur's lover."

 _Lover?_ thought Hermione, feeling the heat reach her cheeks and flood them with a blush. _Shit!_

The tall woman walked two paces and held out her hand to shake Hermione's. "How very rude of me. I should have introduced myself the moment I walked in, but forgive me, I've been so worried about Fleur since I heard. I'm Stefanie."

Very aware how Stefanie towered over her, and how ice blue the woman's eyes were, coming from an almost ageless face, Hermione had trouble finding her voice. "Er...nice to meet you."

"It's so rare these days for a veela's true 'love' to return the feelings," said Stefanie, who was holding Hermione's hand in both of hers now. "Very rare indeed, but very special too. And the fact it's a woman...well, that only adds to the sparkle and complications."

Hermione had a feeling as if Stefanie was almost scanning her, like an x-ray machine at an airport, and for all the world she wanted to take her hand back and to look away, but she couldn't. "You...you can help Fleur?" she managed to utter instead.

"Hmm? Oh...yes, I can," said the slightly distant veela.

"Stefanie, you can look at Hermione later, we should see to my granddaughter first," said Aimée with a mildly amused expression.

"Look at me?" Hermione did pull her hand back then.

"Sorry, Hermione," said Stefanie, jolting herself back to the present. "I was looking for the connection in you which I'll need to do later on, but it was again rather rude without asking. Forgive me?"

 _What is it with veelas wanting to be forgiven all the time?_ thought a rueful Hermione. _She's asked to be forgiven twice already!_ "Nothing to forgive," she shrugged off, hoping that she would be told everything that was happening and not be left off to one side, which was more likely if she became irritated or nervous of them.

"It's only, that I rarely get to see what is happening here, and you drew me in." Stefanie looked back to Fleur, but then said in a vague voice, "Have you felt unwell, Hermione?"

The questions took the younger woman by surprise. "A little. It's the stress of the last few days. I might have picked up a virus even."

"You have a slight temperature," said Stefanie. "See that you drink plenty of fluids and eat well while you are here."

"But you _can_ help Fleur?" Hermione was more insistant.

"Yes I can help her, but what I do next is best done alone."

"I thought it might be," said Aimée. "We'll be downstairs."

"Are you going to heal her?" asked Hermione.

"In a way," said Stefanie, and when she saw Hermione's worried expression she added, softly, "It's the beginning of the healing process. First we have to take care of her health and then we can heal other things. I'll take good care of her, I promise, and I'll do all I can."

Aimée went to the door and gestured to Hermione that they should leave now. With a last wistful glance at Fleur, the younger woman followed. They went downstairs to the kitchen and sat at the kitchen table, and Aimée poured them a glass of homemade lemonade. She added a few drops of a potion to Hermione's glass to help her fight off flu or a virus, which the brunette gratefully accepted. She wanted to be strong for Fleur and really didn't need to be going down with a virus at this very moment.

"She knows what she's doing," said Aimée. "I wouldn't trust her with my granddaughter if I didn't know that."

"What...how does she do...whatever it is she's...?"

"I can't say exactly, because it's never been one of my talents," replied Aimée. "It's not something that can be explained easily, because you can either do this thing or you can't. Stefanie and a couple of others have tried to explain but unless you can do it yourself, it's hard to understand. I suppose the closest thing would be a mixture of Legilimency and Occlumency. In this instance, Stefanie can access something deeper within the veela part of us to heal us from this particular affliction, if caught soon enough. She's a remarkable healer for all kinds of things and also remarkable in her ability to heal non-veelas sometimes too."

"Does she plant a suggestion, as part of the healing, do you think?" wondered Hermione.

"As I said, I'm not sure, exactly. It might be a suggestion, or a feeling, but she has sometimes spoken of connecting something that is broken or torn. I wish I did know, completely."

"You're both speaking English, but her accent isn't French?" asked Hermione.

"No, she's from Germany, originally," said Aimée. "There are many nationalities among us. In centuries past, most countries would have had a community of veelas: a place for veelas and part veelas to go for help, or to live with, but with time, we are the only group, the only coven - as we call ourselves - left. The only _active_ coven left. So, we have members from far and wide, some live here and some only visit from time to time, and English or French is the connecting language. Stefanie prefers English, as do I."

"She said she would need to 'look' at me later, do you know what that might entail?"

"She needs to find your love for Fleur within you, to make sure of things, but some of it there's no point talking about unless we get to it. Stefanie will be able to explain it better than me. I have no doubt that you are Fleur's true 'one'."

XXXXXXXXXX

The time dragged on; Hermione didn't have any certain idea as to what Stefanie was doing, but after the first hour had passed, Aimée suggested she take a walk, always keeping the house in sight, but that a walk would do her good.

Hermione walked into the field at the back of the house, and walked alongside a hedgerow; whatever had been in her lemonade must have done something, because she felt she had more energy and less nausea. There were woodlands in the near distance and high hills, possibly even mountains, in the hazy far away distance. There were long grasses in the field she was in and she trailed her hand across them as she walked, catching both the soft and prickly grasses alike. It made her think of the place of relaxation, which Fleur had taught her. She wondered if Fleur was thinking of this place when they imagined it and that she always felt warm and safe here. Once or twice she heard a rustling sound and a area of foliage would move and then go still, probably caused by mice or other small animals going about their business.

Frequently, Hermione looked back at the large farmhouse, mainly because she didn't want to wander off and get lost, but also because a part of her felt drawn back there; a sensation of wanting to go back to it, made her certain that it was her love for Fleur that was the cause. She felt in shock to an extent, having had no time to deal with what had happened at Hogwarts, the people they had lost and then exactly what had happened to her over the past few weeks. Facing possible death and torment was always in her calculations as probable situations, but to have been tortured, for however short a time it was, by Bellatrix, then fall in love with Fleur, had happened in a blurred whirl of events.

She thought of their kisses, their first kisses by her choosing and not by Fleur surprising her, and she felt the familiar fizzing sherbet feeling in her chest. It was something that actually proved to her that any of it was real; those feelings were real. Unbidden came her memory of her kiss with Ron, and through the half-smile of incredulity, she felt nothing for him. There was no breathless, or weighted, feeling in her chest for him, no tingling in apprehension of wanting it to happen again. She felt a tiny bit smug for a few seconds, that he had finally woken up and had had the guts to act, but it was too late, she had moved on. As she stood in the field staring across the tall grasses and gently touching the nearest grasses with her palm, she realized that she had completely moved on, and it was indeed only Fleur she wanted.

After a time, Hermione found a trampled-down pathway that went across the huge vast field; she walked along it and then back up the other side towards the house. She felt like she had walked miles, and had no idea of time. When she walked back into the kitchen, she found it empty, she looked at the old clock in there and she had been away over an hour. She didn't like to assume she could go upstairs and instead walked through to the adjoining room where she had helped to prepare the potion. Aimée was in there, writing on labels, to stick on to various bottles. She was wearing half-moon spectacles on the end of her nose, much like Dumbledore had done.

"Ah, you're back."

"Yes," said Hermione. "I didn't realize I'd been gone so long. It's beautiful out there."

"It is," said Aimée. "A good place to clear the mind a little."

"Where are we here? I mean in terms of geography."

Aimée paused again, and looked up at Hermione. "Our hidden community is on the border with Alsace. Have you heard of it?"

"Yes, I've heard of Alsace" replied Hermione. "I've never been to this part of France before."

"As we're hidden from the non-magical and non-veela world, you would never have seen our lands even if you were in the approximate area, unless you were taken in by one of our community or a veela Apparated you in here, like I did, or you had great need of one of us and knew of our existence. It's also safer for us that not many people know our exact location."

"I'd never say a word."

"Already, I know that," said Aimée, patiently. "But now is not the time for me to tell you more about our location."

"Stefanie hasn't come down yet, then?" Hermione said, hoping she hadn't sounded like she was probing for too much information.

"No, not yet," said Aimée, as she placed a label on to a bottle containing a muddy-coloured potion. She looked over the top of her spectacles at Hermione again, then took them off. "Of course you're concerned. I am too, but Fleur is in the best hands."

"I know," said Hermione. "I...I just...I don't know..."

"Come and help me with these labels, it will pass some time and take your mind off things maybe," said Aimée.

Hermione seated herself in the chair next to Aimée and checked the labels as they were passed to her, and found herself asking about the contents of the bottles and jars and having some very interesting answers to think about on potions she had never heard of.

Some time later, perhaps another hour, they heard the door to the bedroom upstairs close and footsteps on the stairs. Hermione looked up from reading Aimée's old handwritten potions book, she was searching for a recipe to the contents of one of the jars she had labelled; Aimée looked round from the shelf she had been placing the jars and bottles on to. They both went into the kitchen as Stefanie appeared. Stefanie looked very tired and drawn; she ran a hand through her hair and sat at the table.

"Lemonade?" asked Aimée. "With a drop of 'restorer'?"

Stefanie nodded, and had several sips from her glass, closed her eyes briefly and let out a sighing breath before she spoke, almost immediately rejuvenated, making Hermione wonder what the 'restorer' had been. "She's awake. Well, she's dozing again, now, but not in a critical condition as before."

"Ah, my dear girl," said Aimée, as she clasped her hands together. "My dear, dear girl. Was it difficult? I can't remember how long the last one you did was?"

"It was very difficult; there was so much intensity and emotion. It was no ordinary healing," said Stefanie, as she looked at Hermione.

"I...I expect it wasn't. So much has happened and so fast," said Hermione, only slightly self-conscious, because the majority of her was so relieved that Fleur was awake.

"My friend here, might have tried to tell you what it is I do," said Stefanie to Hermione. "It is hard to explain, only that it is like fixing tears in fabric. Normally, in this type of case, there is only the one tear that needs healing and needs the thing that I do. But Fleur had several ripping tears. That poor girl must have been in a lot of pain to have collapsed as badly as that."

"She was," said Hermione, her voice laden with shame, for knowing that she was partly responsible, and unknowingly, from the moment she had returned Fleur's love. "There has been so much that's happened. I don't understand much about veelas yet, but the basics of what I've learned since, tell me that this began the moment I left her at Shell Cottage."

"I'm sure it did," said Aimée. "It was like you were torn from her. I'm sure she tried to ignore it, not even knowing why she felt the way she did, and it magnified."

"Bill told me she'd been ill for a couple of days, so she must have begun feeling physically ill the moment I left," said Hermione, shaking her head. "I had no idea...I...I never would have..."

"Not your fault," said Stefanie, then she quickly added, before Aimée could begin her own guilt trip, "It's _no one's_ fault. But we're here at this moment and will deal with things as we go along."

"Can I go and see her, now?" asked Hermione, getting ready to stand up.

"No, not alone," said Stefanie.

"Okay," said a confused Hermione. "Can I go with you to see her?"

"Yes, I'll take you to her, but you must understand that she may not be herself for a day or two. She might not be how you imagine."

"I understand. I'm not going to crumble at the fact she's acting different or feels unwell. She was there for me after Bellatrix Lestrange tortured me. She picked me up and never swayed in her care for me. I owe her the same regard. I'm ready to face it. I love her and am prepared to love her and give her whatever time she needs," said Hermione, more strongly then she felt; inside she felt nervous and worried.

It felt like there were more stairs than the last time Hermione had climbed them, and they seemed steeper somehow too. Stefanie was ahead, followed by Hermione, and Aimée was behind them both. Stefanie pushed open the door and they all walked in.

Hermione looked straight to the bed and saw Fleur, her eyes closed, still looking as gaunt and ill as before, but as the floorboards creaked from the three pairs of feet walking into the room she stirred and opened her eyes.

"Fleur," Hermione said, softly, as she sat on the bed. Her eyes filled with tears, as she was able to see her lover awake and with her eyes open; until that moment, Hermione hadn't realized just how much she had been worried about her, and how alone she had felt. She reached forwards and placed her hand over Fleur's. "I've missed you."

Fleur looked at Hermione and slowly pulled her hand back and put it under the sheet, then she looked at her grandmother, for whom she gave a smile and to Stefanie also, and her gaze came back to Hermione. "It seems like I've been away a long time."

"You were, it's been days," said Hermione, not thinking too much about Fleur moving her hand away, back under the sheet.

"It felt a long time for me too, even though I was asleep...or not with the waking world," said Fleur, her voice a little weak.

Hermione, smiled. "It's so good to see you awake."

"Yes," said Fleur, simply.

Looking around to Stefanie, Hermione asked her, "Have you told her what happened? Or some of it?"

"Yes," replied, Stefanie. "As much as I could tell her, as I don't know everything myself."

"It must have been tiring for you and worrying?" offered Fleur, feeling exhausted again in that instant.

"It was," said Hermione. "I've been with you, since this happened, for most of the time. I didn't know what to do, no one did, until your grandmother arrived."

Fleur frowned slightly, and then moved her hand up to rub at her temple. "You said you were with me, most of the time?"

"Yes. As much as possible," said Hermione, wondering if Fleur had a headache.

"Where were you the rest of the time?" asked Fleur.

"Oh, you know, the usual places," Hermione said lightly, trying to stay cheerful if Fleur was still feeling unwell. "Where we all have to go!" She laughed at her rare attempt at mild toilet humour.

"Did you talk to anyone else?" asked Fleur.

"Well, Bill mostly, and some of the Weasleys who visited."

"You saw Ron, while I was asleep? How could you!?"

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Stefanie and Aimée had shared a look with each other a minute or two beforehand, sensing something in Fleur's mood.

"Ron wanted to see how you were," said Hermione, warily. "I talked to him while he looked in on you. But I stayed with you while Bill saw him out."

"You kissed him, you wanted to kiss him. You were just waiting to see if I'd die before you carried on with him...just...just waiting for the opportunity to go to him!" Fleur had raised her voice and had tears rolling down her cheeks in anger.

"I love you, Fleur. I love _you_ ," Hermione tried.

Fleur looked away from her. "You've never loved me. I never should have trusted you."

"I...I love you...I..." Hermione had tears down her cheeks too. "You can trust me...you can. It was _me_ who put all my trust in _you_."

"I think you should leave her, for now," said Stefanie, in nearly a whisper, as she put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Let's go and have a cup of tea and let Aimée have some time with her granddaughter."

Hermione had to wipe her eyes to clear her vision, and when she stood up she looked back down at Fleur, but the Frenchwoman had turned her head away and seemed to refuse to look at her. _One stupid kiss,_ thought Hermione. _One stupid kiss, and it ruins everything, and nearly kills Fleur._

Fleur had felt such joy at seeing Hermione, when she had walked through the bedroom door. She had indeed felt as though she had been away weeks and had missed the girl every moment of them. Yet it seemed to change, suddenly, and immediately to hate and that she never wanted to see someone less than Hermione at that moment. She couldn't bear her touch, or her voice and she felt sure that she was lying to her. It was a relief when the beautiful and wise Stefanie had escorted Hermione from the room.

Her grandmother sat on the bed and without fear, held her hand, which wasn't refused. "Not exactly the reunion we hoped for, but to be expected."

"Grandma, I...I don't know what I'm feeling...I don't know why I feel so angry or...or can't stand the sight of Hermione. I'm so tired," Fleur said, without fear of having to guard her words.

"I know what's happening," said her grandmother. She went on to tell Fleur a shortened, easier, version of how consummating her relationship with Hermione, then being apart, could be almost fatal to a veela.

"It makes sense for how ill I felt," said Fleur. "Mrs. Weasley kept asking me if I was pregnant. I even thought I was myself, at one point! Maybe I am?"

"You're not," said Aimée. "And neither Stefanie nor I have sensed that."

"Why can't I trust Hermione? Why do I seem to hate her? I want to believe her...do _you_ believe her?"

"Yes, I do. It was just the situation she was in, and this Ron boy was her school crush for years, but her thoughts were of you as soon as it happened. She had already decided on you, and that kiss changed nothing."

"So why can't I believe her? Why can't I stand to be near her?" asked a distraught Fleur.

"Because..."

XXXXXXXXXX

"...the reason for her reaction," said Stefanie to Hermione, patiently and kindly, as they sat at the kitchen table. "...is her body has been hurt, physically hurt, and the thing that helped to hurt it was her deep love for you. She loves you so much and it feels like you were torn from her. The kiss with this Ron boy only adds a little salt into an open wound. Her body and mind is angry and scared of you, because having the feeling you were torn from her heart, nearly killed her. The veela part of her is trying to protect her against more harm. We have stopped the physical damage that was starting to happen, but she is backing away from you, because you are the thing that hurt her. The veela doesn't want the same thing near her to hurt her again. And for that fact she's finding any reason for you to not be near her, to not let her be vulnerable around you any more. If you're not friendly, you can't be intimate, and therefore she is saved from endangering herself again."

"I nearly killed her?" said Hermione.

"Not really, it's circumstantial and you didn't know, and neither did she," said Stefanie. "Hopefully Aimée is explaining the same things to Fleur, now."

"Have you seen this before?" asked Hermione, hopefully.

"Yes, a few times. I have never seen the repeated 'tears' that have happened to Fleur, but I have seen this very reaction a couple of times, and it's always the same reason."

"So, what happens now?" asked a weary Hermione. "I love Fleur. You have to believe that. I don't want anyone else."

"Would you allow me to look at you, now?"

"Do you mean like you said before? Aimée said something like Occlumency or Legilimency?"

"In a way, but completely painless and I'm not there to change anything. I only want to see that you are connected to Fleur and that this is the real thing and not just an unusually deep love."

"What if it _is_ only deep love and not the big 'one' that everyone has spoken of?" said Hermione, nervously.

"I'm sure it is more, from what I've seen in Fleur, but everyone can feel deeply in love and your circumstances were very intense. I need to establish your connection to Fleur before we can go forwards. So would you allow me to look?" asked Stefanie.

"Yes, if it helps this whole thing in any way," said Hermione.

Stefanie led Hermione through to a sitting room area and told her to sit on the sofa, while she went to tell Aimée what she was going to do, so that the other woman wouldn't come in and break the process. It left Hermione sitting there, for a few minutes, wondering what it would entail and it also gave her a nagging doubt.

 _What if I'm not really this true 'one' love?_ she thought. _What if it was only deep infatuation? Where does it leave us?_

XXXXXXXXXX

Around fifteen minutes later, Stefanie sat back from Hermione, taking her hands from where they had gently rested against the brunette's temples. The blonde woman expelled a breath, almost as if she had been holding it the whole time she was working on Hermione.

"Well...," said Stefanie, wearing a thoughtful expression.

"I'm not the one, am I?" said Hermione, glumly.

"My dear, you are indeed the 'one': Fleur's one; do not worry on that account."

"Oh."

"I have rarely seen a connection so strong. It explains a lot," said Stefanie, as she sat back in an armchair, her hands clasped.

"As I said before, we've both been through a lot in the last couple of weeks, and...and our relationship happened quickly...well...she's liked me for years, but...," Hermione said, aware that she was marginally starting to babble. "...well...everything has been so intense. The war, how I arrived at her home in a bit of a state, and then...everything..."

"It's remarkable. You're _both_ remarkable. I would say almost astonishing!"

"You _would_?" wondered Hermione.

"I'm not sure you know what I found within you," said Stefanie. "It makes this whole thing even more rare, even more remarkable. How Fleur survived as long as she did is amazing!"

"I thought you've dealt with this kind of thing before...," said an ever more wary Hermione. "I know this was a bit more intense, but it's basically the same problem you've seen before, isn't it?"

"Yes and no," said Stefanie, as she sat forward on her chair. "It's..."

Aimée entered the room at that point, quietly at first, and then seeing that Stefanie had finished her work she asked, "Would it be all right if I heard this? If Hermione doesn't mind my hearing it too?"

"I don't mind," said Hermione, slightly worried about what might be said next.

"When I looked for Fleur within you, the love between you, what I found was more than that," explained Stefanie. "I found Fleur."

"I wondered if it was something more," said Aimée, giving an almost imperceptible nod to herself.

"Isn't that what you were looking for?" asked a mildy underwhelmed Hermione. "You were looking for Fleur within me?"

"I was looking for your love: your love for her, her love connected to you, but I found more than that. I found an actual piece of Fleur's...soul." said Stefanie.

"Oh no! I'm not a bloody horcrux, am I?" Hermione blurted out, before she had time to think and speak more politely.

"A horcrux?" Stefanie said, her eyes wide, as if she had been slapped and cursed. "That is pure evil magic, nothing but selfish aims to snare a part of someone's soul for evil intent. No, Hermione, what I mean is, that she has literally transferred a small piece of her soul within you, and it only got there by pure love: utterly devoted love."

"Oh, sorry...it's just...," Hermione began to apologize.

"Fleur was telling me just now," said Aimée. "You were hunting and destroying the pieces of Voldemort's soul. And Harry Potter was a horcrux and knew he had to die in order to live. My poor girl, that is not what has happened here."

Stefanie looked alarmed with that knowledge, then shook her head. "What dangers you have been through!? Extreme dangers!"

"Did it happen when...you know...when we...?" asked an embarrassed Hermione.

"I think it happened sooner than that, and making love for the first time only added to it and sealed it, hence why there have been so many 'rips' and 'tears' to Fleur, so much wrenching veela pain," said Stefanie softly.

"I think it's why such a tame thing as you kissing the Weasley boy has magnified so much in Fleur. I'm sure she felt that moment: that part of her soul reacted to what it thought was betrayal. Yes, yes, it explains so much," said Aimée. "Has Fleur ever told you about any of the things I've ever taught her?"

"No, not that I can think of," said Hermione, beginning to feel tired now. "She spoke about you telling her she was supposed to look for 'things' or recognize them, but she wasn't exactly sure what things she would notice or what veela traits she would have."

"So she never taught you anything different? Or told you about something that was different?"

"Not really. I can't remember any spells or anything important like that," said Hermione, when a thought hit her. "She did tell me about a relaxation technique she used, which I think she said you taught her. It helped me to get to sleep and keep calm in the first few days after Bellatrix Lestrange had...had done what she did to me."

"Ah-ha!" said Aimée. "That might explain some things."

Hermione shook her head. "Not for me it doesn't. Please tell me what you're talking about, now?"

"What was the technique she taught you?" asked Aimée.

"She would talk me through imagining I was in a field, and it was sunny and sometimes I'd sit down in the field and look up at the blue sky, or let my hand be tickled by the grasses as I walked by. Not many days before I left, she told me to imagine a little old building, which looked a bit like a church or old barn, or something. Anyway we said to each other that we'd think of that place and find each other in it. It was a comfort to find her there."

"Forgive me, but I cannot explain any more now; it's not the time, but this does say something to me, and to Stefanie," said Aimée, kindly.

"What I _can_ tell you," said Stefanie. "Is not only did Fleur transfer a part of her soul, but of course, it was part of the veela in her too. More can be said when Fleur is well again, when I can ask her more, and when we have the first problems out of the way, but I think you were able to access something which only some veelas can experience."

"For short amounts of time I was able to be projected into that world," said Aimée. "To contact Fleur and to speak with her. While there I was aware of some unusual things in that plain...but, anyway, it is something that we'll talk about another time."

Hermione let out a tired sigh, too weary to be annoyed or inquisitive about the imaginary world she had been taught; too tired to wonder about any significance it might have, thinking it was based on some kind of projection of thought, that was possibly a veela talent. She sat forward and put her head in her hands. "What can we do about Fleur and me? Can this ever be made right between us?"

"Yes, it can be. It must be, for Fleur to stay well; the _easiest_ way for her to stay well, at least," said Stefanie. "It might take a little work, and inventiveness, but it can be done. We must be patient, because I can do no more for you both until you find each other again, properly."

"I want nothing more than to go and sit with her, now," said Hermione. "But I don't think she wants me near her. Not even while she sleeps."

"Perhaps for the moment it would be better if you didn't do that," replied Stefanie. "I can only imagine what this feels like for you, but it will work out."

"So what happens now?" asked Hermione, wondering what the next few hours or days might hold.

"I'm happy that Fleur is stable," said Stefanie, looking from Hermione to Aimée as she stood up. "So for now I'll go, and return tomorrow, then it's just a matter of time before I can assist again. I have a lot of work I left back at my house. I have so many orders for my ingredients, all from people wanting to stock up on things: almost certainly a result of Voldemort. I must have a hundred orders and a large order from Beauxbatons for their summer holiday refurbishments."

"That's over, he's gone," said Hermione. "I was there when Harry killed him."

"It's the ardent followers and the superstition that he might return again that people are fearful of," said Stefanie. "Always better to make sure of something."

"Do you need any help?" asked the younger woman. "I'm not doing anything, if I can help I will."

"On any other occasion I'd glady accept, but you must stay within the boundaries of Aimée's house for the moment. We can't risk putting Fleur backwards in her recovery, and if you left the boundaries here, her veela senses might make her ill again."

"I have lots of things you can help me with," said Aimée, cheerfully. "I may be old, but I'm not inactive and resigned to making preserves and pickling eggs."

Hermione nodded her head at Fleur's grandmother and half-smiled.

"I'll be back tomorrow," said Stefanie.

Aimée went forwards and hugged her veela friend. "Thank you so much. Thank you for helping my Fleur."

"You know I would do anything for you, for Fleur and for any of our family," said Stefanie, as she hugged the older woman back. "We are all precious to me."

"Thank you," said Hermione, who stood to one side, not feeling as though she was acquainted enough to qualify for a hug.

However, Stefanie walked a pace towards her, and as she towered over the brunette she put a hand under her chin and when Hermione looked up, shyly, she said, "I'll do all I can for Fleur and for you both; never doubt that."

The very tall veela then put her arms around Hermione and embraced her. After those words and the whole situation, it made Hermione feel tears in her eyes, which she fought to resist.

Stefanie pulled back from the embrace and placed a hand gently against the side of Hermione's cheek. "I'll be back tomorrow. Try not to worry."

Hermione sat back down in a chair and heard some of the chatter as Stefanie walked through to the kitchen with Aimée to Disapparate, and she wasn't sure what to think when she clearly heard the tall veela say, "What a stunning young woman. A lovely fit too!"

"Stefanie!?" Aimée said in a hushing whisper.

"Well, I'm just saying, I can see why Fleur was drawn to her, why she's her chosen partner. Must be very nice to cuddle up to at night."

"Honestly, what would Sophie say?!"

"She knows me too well, and she'll want the full report when I return," said Stefanie. "I'll visit tomorrow morning, but if anything happens with Fleur, don't hesitate to call me."

Hermione must have had an expression on her face which betrayed that she had heard most of the conversation, as when Aimée walked through she said, "She doesn't mean anything by it. What she said, she's just..."

"It's okay," said Hermione. "I've had much worse said about me, so it makes a pleasant and surprising change. So is Sophie her partner?"

"Yes," replied Aimée. "They've been together nearly twenty years. It's not for me to tell you, I'm sure she'd talk to you if you asked her about it. Actually, knowing Stefanie she'd _love_ for you to ask her about it!"

"Perhaps I will," mused Hermione, wondering straight away if Sophie was part veela, magical or some other combination. "So, you said there were things I could help you with. I might as well start on something now, I have nothing else to do, other than worry about Fleur. Working on something might clear my mind for a little while."

"Of course; I need to prepare some herbs for drying, we might as well start there."

"I suppose I really ought to write to Bill and let him know how Fleur is, first," said Hermione then thinking about the obligation for the first time since arriving at Aimée's house. "I haven't a clue what to tell him."

"Which is why I'm going to write to him for you, once I've set you to work on those herbs," said Aimée.

"I shouldn't let you take my responsibilities. I..."

"I don't remember Bill saying only _you_ could tell him news?!" said Aimée, firmly, but kindly. "I'm Fleur's grandmother and one of the elder veelas in this community. If he doesn't accept my correspondence then he isn't deserving of our concern."

Hermione rubbed her forehead feeling more tired. "I don't mean...I didn't mean..."

Aimée put an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "You have enough to worry about, my dear. I'll make sure to pass on your best wishes. While you and Fleur are in my care I will try to make things as easy for you as I can. Let me do, what grandmothers do best."

This made Hermione laugh. "Sorry, I was thinking that it's usually baking cakes, but I'm sure that's not what you meant."

"I'm good at baking," said Aimée proudly. "But I'm best at ordering other people around, so I will be writing to Bill."

"Thank you," said Hermione, as she made her way into the place she considered was the 'workroom', to the small piles of herbs requiring her attention.


	13. Family and Friends

13: Family and Friends

The twenty-four hours which followed Hermione's unconventional arrival in France felt like something bordering on a nightmare - possibly in an alternate universe - for the young woman. Only days before, she had been with Harry and Ron, fighting for their lives, and with the end of Voldemort, she had been relieved to finally feel she could sit down with Fleur and make plans for the time they now had. Somehow it had all gone wrong and here they were, with Fleur not seeming to want Hermione's company and yet both being told they would be fine eventually. Hermione certainly didn't feel they would be _'fine'_ any time soon. The only plus point was that the poition she had had must have worked as she no longer felt like she had a virus; she was tired, but not feeling ill.

Stefanie had returned first thing that morning, and found Hermione in the kitchen reading the Daily Prophet, which was remarkably delivered all the way to where they were in France every day, along with a French publication. Aimée had taken up Fleur's breakfast to her, and Hermione hadn't wanted to start her day badly, and almost felt she had to gear herself up before seeing Fleur again; so, she stayed back and drank her coffee while reading the newspaper, procrastinating.

"Did you have a good night?" asked Stefanie.

"Not brilliant, no," said Hermione.

"To be expected."

"It's a beautiful room, and Aimée's been lovely, it's...it's..."

"You'd rather be with Fleur and see her the way she used to be and not have all these worries?!" said Stefanie knowingly. "Of course. I understand that. We all understand that."

Hermione had slept in a room at the opposite end of the house to Fleur. It was best that they were under the same roof, but Hermione decided that, if she couldn't be in the same bed as Fleur, then it didn't matter if she was in the next room to her, or three rooms away.

"I'll go up and see Fleur, now," said Stefanie as she walked to the stairs.

There was some talk on the landing and then Aimée was back in the kitchen again. "She's much better today, her body seems to be healing fast."

"That's good news," said Hermione.

"I think she'll be up and around the house by tomorrow. She's already complaining of being bored," said Aimée, as she set the breakfast things to wash themselves in the kitchen sink, which amused Hermione to see the same charm used by Mrs. Weasley at the Burrow. "I'll wait and see what Stefanie says."

Not knowing how long the German veela would be, Hermione looked back at the Daily Prophet, which understandably, was still talking about Harry and the demise of Voldemort. She was pleased to read that Kingsley Shacklebolt had been officially sworn in as Minister, and a couple of the aurors she knew from the Order had been given high positions in the new-look Ministry. She knew she would probably get a letter from someone back in England. Neither Harry nor Ron were the most reliable of letter writers, but the curiosity would get to them. She wasn't sure what to tell them yet, and thought she would probably be a bit vague about it, although in truth, she didn't know exactly what was going on herself, for that she was pleased that Aimée was taking charge of informing Bill about everything. Although Hermione knew Bill quite well and cared for him a great deal, the current situation made her feel very awkward and uneasy.

"Much better, today! Much better!" said Stefanie, as she walked into the kitchen, a while later, nearly making Hermione jump.

"I thought so too," said Aimée.

"You really got to her in time, and the potion did its job," said Stefanie as she took a seat, and Aimée poured her a coffee. "There shouldn't be much lasting damage, although she may never be exactly as strong as she was before, but it will not be noticed by others."

"My goodness, if I'd been another day..."

"Don't think of things that never happened," said Stefanie, kindly. "It didn't happen, and she's safe and no longer dying."

"She _was_ dying, then?" asked Hermione, so quietly she was nearly whispering.

"Yes, her body was shutting down, and dying. Even non-veela bodies try to shut down when they face severe shock. It's just very unlikely a full human would face the kind of thing that can hurt a person with veela blood. But we've stopped that, and she's healing fast."

"Oh," said Hermione as another thought came to her. "The physical part is healing, but the other thing...?"

"That connection has never needed to be healed, exactly," explained Stefanie. "It's a different kind of thing, but we will deal with that too."

"I didn't mean to rush anything or..."

"You weren't, you're rightly concerned and worried for Fleur," said Stefanie. "Besides, she was asking for you."

"Now?" asked Hermione, surprised.

"Yes."

"Do I need to wait and go up with you or Aimée?"

"No. No, you can go and see her alone," said Stefanie, thoughtful for a moment, and with a serious expression. "But if she becomes agitated or it turns into an argument, don't stay. As hard as that sounds, we don't want to put added stress into the situation. But we have to see where we all are, so that might as well start today."

Hermione nodded and went to the stairs; as she started to climb them, she felt a fluttery nervous feeling in her chest. She knew that things may not be great between them, but she was resolved to keep things simple, and as she stepped across the landing to the room Fleur was in, she told herself to try and _be_ herself. Taking a deep breath and exhaling it as calmly as she could, she gave a little knock on the bedroom door and opened it.

Only after she had closed the door did Hermione turn to see Fleur sitting up in bed, reading a book. Her blonde hair was tied back neatly now and she looked much better, with a healthier colour to her cheeks, and she looked less tired and strained. Fleur looked up, and when she saw Hermione she gave a little smile.

 _So far so good,_ thought Hermione as she walked towards the bed.

"Hello," said Fleur.

"You look better than when I last saw you...that is to say, you...well...you didn't look well before," said Hermione, stumbling over her words, not wanting to start off by telling Fleur that she had looked dreadful.

"I know what you meant," said Fleur. "I was ill. My Grandma and Stefanie have told me just _how_ ill. I definitely feel better today."

"That's good," said Hermione, now torn between whether she should continue standing, or whether she could sit on the bed to talk with Fleur. She was also running out of anything to say, and she didn't want to get caught in the trap of talking about the weather and what they ate for breakfast. "So...er..."

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

"What about?"

"I spoke to you badly, yesterday," said Fleur.

"Not really..."

"Yes, I did," said an adamant Fleur. "Whatever the reasons, it was wrong of me, and I'm sorry."

Hermione only narrowly avoided an audible sigh, trying to keep herself together, when she already felt the smallest stirrings of the need to cry, surfacing. "I understand more about what happened, and why. I understand more about why you feel the way you do."

"I don't think you do."

"Aimée and Stefanie have gone through some of it with me, and I sort of..."

"You nor I understand...that...when I see you the first thing I want to do is hold you, but...but, in seconds that changes to never wanting to see you again! How can you understand that?"

"Well, of course I don't know how you _really_ feel, how can I? But I've been told a little more about why it might be that way...and in as much as I can, I understand it."

 _Shit! This is already going down the toilet!_ Thought Hermione, as Fleur already sounded agitated. "We...we don't have to talk about that, if you don't want to," offered Hermione.

"What else can we talk about?" asked Fleur, in an almost pompous tone. "Us? _US?_ Is there an us? Was there ever an _us_? I don't know...I..."

"I'll leave you in peace," said Hermione walking to the door. "I'm pleased you're feeling better, and...and if you ever want to...to talk to me, I'm here, just ask for me."

"If I ever..." Fleur's voice faltered, and she let out a stifled sob.

Hermione turned back and began to walk towards the bed, as all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around Fleur and hold her; make things better for them both. However, her actions were halted.

"No! I don't want you here," said Fleur, sniffling. "I can't...I...just go!"

Every fibre of Hermione's body was trying to tug her back to Fleur and it was a physical struggle to walk out of the door and close it. She walked to the stairs and leaned against the banister a moment, as her body shook with tears. After a few moments she had calmed herself enough to go down the stairs. There was no point trying to hide what had happened, because she wanted one of the other women to go to Fleur and make sure she was all right. As she walked back into the kitchen, both of the other women looked round to her.

"Ah, it didn't go well?" asked Stefanie.

"No," said Hermione, shaking her head. "I...er...I think she needs one of you to be with her. She got really upset so suddenly."

"I'll go," said Aimée.

Stefanie stood up and went to Hermione and hugged her. "It might take some time."

"I know, but...but why is it confusing her so much? She was talking to me fine and was smiling and friendly and within a few words she was all on edge with me..."

"The nature of love has never been easy for even non-veelas, but for us with the blood it is a dark pit of the unknown; a pit where wild tigers reside and sometimes need taming. And like all creatures, that taming varies from tiger to tiger." Stefanie stood back to look at Hermione, before leading her to a chair at the table. "Have a cup of coffee with me; we need to look after you too."

XXXXXXXXXX

In the days which followed, Hermione had found herself outside a lot, often collecting ingredients and other oddities from the acres of land that surrounded the farmhouse. She had been enjoying Aimée's instruction on potions and items that she had not come across before. She was also outside a lot because Fleur was up and around the house, but Hermione didn't feel comfortable in the same room for long and once or twice she was sure she had heard an annoyed 'tut tutting' from Fleur as if irritated that she couldn't go anywhere without seeing the brunette. They had had one or two attempts at talking again, and it always resulted in Fleur suddenly getting angry and ultimately wanting the younger woman to leave her alone and go away.

Fleur's mother, and sister Gabrielle, had arrived three days after Fleur had been healed, which put Hermione on edge. She was expecting questions and disapproval from Apolline Delacour and her youngest daughter, but they couldn't have been nicer. They had lunch all together and Fleur occasionally glanced at Hermione but not always with a pleasant expression.

After noticing the crackling tension between her daughter and her would-be partner all the time she had been there, Apolline could avoid it no longer:

"Hermione, take no notice of my daughter," said the imposing Frenchwoman; she had more of an accent than her mother, Aimée, and daughter, but also spoke perfect English. Hermione had been happy to speak in French when they had arrived, but Fleur's mother had soon changed to English and seemed happy to converse in it, as it seemed that they mostly spoke in English whenever they were with Aimée. "She always pulled faces even as a small child. It's another phase, I'm sure it will pass."

"She taught me all I know in the art of performing silly faces," said Gabrielle drily. She seemed much more grown-up than when Hermione had last seen her, several months before, at the wedding.

Fleur looked at her mother and sister, but she turned another glare on to Hermione, as if it was still all the brunette's fault for everything. The brunette gave a little shrug of her shoulders, but gave Gabrielle a small smile.

Once they had had some ice cream for dessert, Hermione was feeling rather tired trying to maintain her cool and calm exterior while also coping with, essentially, her in-laws, however nice they had been, so she excused herself from the table.

"I'm sure you'd like some time together as a family, so I'm going for a walk for a little while," she said, standing up.

"Yes, that would be a good idea," said Fleur "Take a nice long one!"

"Fleur!?" her mother exclaimed.

"Well...it's..." Fleur spluttered to find the reason for what she had said and in her confused mind she got angry with herself too. "She wants to go, let her go!"

"It's okay," said Hermione, as she nodded to Aimée, then had a little battle with the door that led outside, which often seemed to stick, and wandered out through it. Even had Fleur been better, she would have let them have some privacy together, so they could talk without a near stranger being with them.

Hermione walked to the edge of the field at the back of the farmhouse and sat down on a tree stump, her back to a hedgerow, at the edge of some trees that gradually grew into a woodland. She watched insects flitting from the wild flowers at the edge of the field and watched some birds too, trying to clear her mind. She wasn't sure how long it had been when she heard some rustling and looking to her right she saw Apolline walking towards her. The woman didn't look annoyed, but Hermione thought she was going to get a lecture of some sort, or motherly advice, so she took a calming deep breath and waited.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it?" said the older woman.

"Yes. It's lovely."

"Unlike my daughter, right now."

"I know it's not her fault...I...it's sort of my..."

"Don't apologize, Hermione," Apolline said swiftly, cutting off what Hermione was going to say. "We know what's going on here. It's very hard on you."

"It must be hard on you and the family, knowing how ill she was?" Hermione said, instead of dwelling on herself.

"We trust my mother and we trust the veelas here," Apolline said. "And I trust you."

Hermione looked up at the Frenchwoman with surprise. "You...you hardly know me. And...if it wasn't for me, we wouldn't all be in this mess."

"I do know you...or know all I _need_ to know about you." The older woman, gave a little smile and leaned against the tree stump. "I know how my Fleur fell for you years ago, and lived with the disappointment, once she realized what it was that made her feel how she did. I know what you've done in this terrible war against that evil man and my mother has told me how you've suffered. I know how loyal you are to the people around you and to what is right. I couldn't ask for more. What happened, happened. No one could have known, really, that this would be where we are...but we're here, so we'll have to work with what we have. I would understand if you wanted to leave?"

"I can't," said Hermione, immediately. "I can't risk making Fleur ill again, even if she does act like she wants me to go."

"I personally don't want you to leave but...you _could_ leave; there are potions and things we can do to stop her getting ill again. It can be done. It's difficult, but not impossible."

"No. I can't," said Hermione. "I...I love her. I don't have anywhere else to be. I want things to be right again. I can't leave."

Apolline put an arm around Hermione. "I knew you would say that, but I wanted you to know that you have options. It can't be nice to feel so unwanted by the person you love."

"It makes everything more confusing," admitted Hermione. "I've wondered what has happened to me in the past few weeks and whether it's all been a bit of a dream. Then I think of Fleur and how she was when we parted, before she became ill, and...and...," Hermione lowered her voice, slightly embarrassed. "...I feel something in my chest, like a fluttering butterfly, and a warmth spread through me, and I know it's love. I so want to have that with Fleur again, to see her well and feel that again."

"She won't be like this forever," said Apolline confidently.

"That's what Aimée has said, and Stefanie, so I have to trust them."

"It will be difficult, but Fleur will find herself soon and be her old self once more. It might take a little more courage from you to keep taking the insults and looks from her."

"I'm used to that from most of my school days," said Hermione with a little resigned laugh. "I'm here for the duration. I'll be here, however long it takes."

Apolline still had her arm around the younger woman and gave her a little squeeze. "I hope it's sooner rather than later. And when eveything is right again, I want you to visit us with Fleur. My husband would love to meet you properly."

"I'd like that," said Hermione, deeply touched by the older woman's kindness.

"Well, I must be going now. I have some errands to run before this evening. I'm not sure when I'll visit again, because I'd rather not intrude upon this delicate space until things are better." Apolline stood up straight. "Thank you, Hermione."

"What for?"

"For loving my difficult daughter," said the Frenchwoman. "For standing by her."

"I always will."

"I think I know that," said Apolline, proudly. "I hope to see you again soon."

With that, the tall imposing figure of Apolline Delacour walked back towards the farmhouse, leaving Hermione baffled and bemused by their conversation, and once she had worked through those feelings, she felt incredibly relieved. Fleur's mother and sister were not going to be a problem; they couldn't have been more supportive. As for Fleur, she was sure things might get a lot more difficult before they got easier.

The rest of the day, Fleur was continuing to be unpleasant and just when Hermione thought things were softening between them, over supper, Fleur snapped again; but despite everything feeling far from working out well, Hermione felt an inner resolve to keep trying with Fleur, to not give up on her, however dreadful she was made to feel. It would mean she would have to hide her tears of frustration and hurt, at times, but she knew that she couldn't leave; not just because of Fleur's health, but she recognized that she truly loved her and what she had told Apolline had been the absolute truth. It made the hurts dig deeper at her inside, but it also strengthened her.

xxxxxxxxxx

A couple of days later, Aimée had gone to her potting shed, thinking of potting up some plants to move outside and she found Hermione sitting at the bench inside, reading a book, except her eyes were staring beyond the page at the wooden surface of the bench, her eyes were also red from crying.

"I expect I'm in the way," said Hermione suddenly, closing her book and making to stand up. "Unless you need some help with anything?"

"You're not in the way, my dear," said Aimée. "Stay where you are."

As the older woman moved a couple of trays of small plants to the bench, she glanced at Hermione. "You and Fleur had a disagreement again?"

"Yes," answered Hermione, truthfully. "It's like she's put up this brick wall when she's around me, and everything I try either doesn't get through or bounces back to hit me hard in the face. I only mentioned that the weather was lovely today, with a clear sky, and she nearly threw the information back at me as if I'd insulted her."

"It's very difficult, I understand that," said Aimée. "Your patience is to be admired."

"I have no other place I need to be," said Hermione with a shrug. "I have no other place I'd _rather_ be, even if she doesn't seem to want me around her."

Aimée felt immense compassion for the young woman. "Do you have any family you'd like to contact back in England? Anyone we could bring to you, just for the day, even?"

"No, other than Harry and the Weasleys, there's no one, and I don't really want to face them at the moment."

"It must be so hard for you, with your parents having passed away," said Aimée carefully. "I can't imagine..."

"My parents aren't dead! At least I hope they aren't...they _shouldn't_ be."

"I thought you said something about not having them around anymore? I assumed they'd died in this awful war, or at some other time?"

"I didn't mean to mislead you," said Hermione. Then she gave a big sigh. "It was too complicated to explain at the time, and I don't like thinking about it too much, because I'm not sure I can change anything about it."

"Oh, are they not accepting of your magical abilities?" wondered Aimée, having come across several muggle-born witches whose parents had disowned them for not being 'normal'. "You don't have to answer, I don't mean to pry."

"Before I set out with Harry and Ron to search for horcruxes, I knew things were getting bad for muggle-born witches and wizards, and their families, and with my connection to Harry, my parents would have been prime targets. So, I used the _Obliviate_ charm and erased myself from their memories, projected new names on to them, with a desire to emigrate to Australia. As far as I know, and hope, they're safely in Australia and never knew they had a daughter."

Aimée opened her mouth in surprise to say something, but didn't find a comment forthcoming.

"It was wrong," said Hermione, feeling the familiar pang of shame she had always felt when thinking of what she had done. "I know it was. I performed magic on muggles without their permission and altered their memories. I...I just didn't know what else to do to keep them safe, especially as I was going to be on the move and probably in hiding a lot."

"I wasn't going to say 'wrong'," said Aimée, finally able to speak. "I was going to say brave and amazingly inventive. I don't know anyone, in the circumstances, who would consider it wrong, and if they did, then they've never known the true love of a parent or grandparent."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders indifferently, not feeling as though she had been brave at all; 'desperate' was a word that came to mind. "Anyway, they shouldn't be dead, but I don't know if I'll ever find them again, or if the charm can be reversed. I've tried not to think about them too much lately, because I've had so much else to think about and needed to be sharp and alert, not sniffling into a tissue every five minutes, because I miss them."

"I have no answer," said Aimée, feeling emotional from all she had heard, but keeping her emotions in check. "Maybe when all of this is done and you're both well, I can put you in contact with some people that might know more about reversing or modifying memory charms, and someone who might be able to help with international searches for people."

"Thanks," said Hermione, touched by the offer of help. "Thanks a lot. For now, I need to put my energy into helping Fleur, if she'll ever let me near her again."

XXXXXXXXXX

Fleur was confused with her continued thought processes. She wanted nothing more than to be close to Hermione, but every time she felt she was getting through to herself that it _was_ what she wanted, the other side of her came through and wanted nothing more than to be away from the brunette. She knew she was making Hermione uncomfortable and she had started to make _herself_ uncomfortable when thoughts came through to her such as: _What's she still doing in my grandmother's house? What's the point? Why doesn't she go back to England where she belongs?!_

After another incident in which Hermione had meekly left the house, with a basket, for collecting some wild flowers, Fleur flopped down in an armchair. Her grandmother was seated opposite her, sharpening some pencils with a knife, letting the small curls of wood flick into the grate of the fireplace, which currently had no fire.

"What are you saying to yourself?" her grandmother asked.

"Nothing much."

"You can tell me. It might even help."

"Not nice things. Wondering what she's still doing here. That kind of thing...which is plain nasty," admitted a depressed Fleur.

"You know why?"

"Yes, yes, it's my inner veela trying to push away the thing that hurt me," Fleur almost snapped.

"Good. There's no harm in checking that you know that, and that it's not about this Ron boy, and it's the fact you were separated before then?!" Aimée continued to shave tiny curls of wood away from the sketching pencil she was sharpening.

"I know. What's the good of knowing if I'm never going to be free of it?"

"It won't be like this forever," said the older woman. "Something will break through."

"Break through?" Fleur scoffed. "I thought Stefanie was going to do something to find this...this _thing_ between Hermione and me and reconnect it?"

"No, she checked that you are both what you think you are, that it does in fact exist, but until you are together again she cannot do more."

"Now you tell us?!"

"My dear girl, we told you this when you first awoke here," said Aimée patiently.

"Well, I don't see how it can ever be right between Hermione and me, with the way I'm treating her. She might have to go home and leave me here," said Fleur, sighing.

"You know that wouldn't be a good idea, now."

With what Aimée knew, despite there being a way in which Hermione _could_ leave Fleur, she really did not want that to happen and that her granddaughter's case was very much more serious. So far, they had not told Fleur about the part of her that resided in Hermione: only Hermione, Stefanie and herself knew about that. The whole concept was hard to fathom for her and Stefanie, let alone trying to tell Fleur about it, in her current state of continuing to be agitated with Hermione's presence; at this moment in time, that knowledge might push the veela blood in Fleur further away from the young Englishwoman.

"Yes, yes, yes," said Fleur. "I know that too. I'm thinking out loud." Then she gave a snort of derision. "No wonder you never told me any of this when I was younger."

"And that is something I'll regret for the rest of my life. I was expecting of you something that even some full veelas would not have known. You were always so special; you had the gifts, and you _have_ the gifts, but even with those I expected too much, for you to assume and know."

Suddenly Fleur laughed. "If you had told me when I was younger, knowing what I know now, I think I would be spending my life in a convent!"

Aimée had to laugh at this too. "Poor nuns, having you flirting with them all the time!" She stopped chuckling again and looked at her granddaughter. "You know, in our history several veelas became nuns, as a form of protection, and sometimes as a form of solace...but...well, nuns have nothing to do with it, now. It will turn out right, I know it will. Be patient."

"You never told me anything much when I married Bill?" asked Fleur. "Did you know he wasn't the one for me? I obviously wouldn't have this reaction with him, would I?"

"You might have experienced a little something similar, depending on the situation. Your protective side would always be there for him, but this situation was never going to happen with him, no."

"Poor Bill, what must he be thinking? Has Hermione written to him? Oh god, has anyone written to him?"

"No, Hermione hasn't..."

"Typical...she'd never..."

"...I was going to say, before you come out with any more senseless venom against that poor girl, that I've written to him for her," said Aimée.

"Oh...oh...okay," said Fleur, pausing as she thought over what her grandmother had said. "'Senseless venom'?"

"Yes, my beautiful one. I don't think I need to tell you that, the things you're saying and thinking in relation to Hermione can be nonsensical to the extreme, in your veela blood's attempt to push her away and find a reason why she shouldn't be with you."

"I know," Fleur said with another deep sigh. "So has Bill replied, that I don't know about?"

"Only a couple of lines to acknowledge my letter," replied her grandmother. "Before you ask, I have made it clear that neither you nor Hermione should be disturbed with lots of letters."

"And he just accepts that? And the Weasleys and Harry Potter accept that for Hermione too?" asked an incredulous Fleur.

"Normally, I find using the words 'veela business' is suffice to keep people away," Aimée said, with a glint of amusement in her eyes.

"I can imagine you probably scared them away with a lot more than _that_!?" said Fleur, with a roll of her eyes.

Aimée's face went serious again. "You didn't tell me about Hermione's parents?"

"I didn't?"

"No, you didn't," said a solemn Aimée. "I thought when she came with me that perhaps her parents had died in this dreadful war we just had, you never said she chose to erase the memories of herself from them and send them away?"

"Never really came into conversation, I suppose." Without knowing it, Fleur was speaking with an indifferent tone, caused simply by Hermione being the topic of conversation. "It's not particularly relevant at the moment. It slipped my mind."

The older woman stared at her granddaughter, then shook her head, knowing it was impossible to discuss things in a normal manner. "That girl has made many sacrifices for many different people," she said instead.

"I...," Fleur paused, then generously acknowledged it, thinking of it being any one person and not just Hermione, which lifted her biased bashing of Hermione's character. "I know."

"Anyway, tomorrow I've asked Stefanie and Sophie to dinner," said Aimée. "At least any strange outbursts won't bother those two."

Fleur rolled her eyes again, and gave a sigh to that. She was certain she could behave herself in front of guests and the suggestion that she couldn't almost made her laugh.

XXXXXXXXXX

Hermione had spent most of the day labelling potion bottles for Aimée; what had initially been a distraction for her had become genuinely interesting. Some of the potions were adapted by Aimée herself and, as always, Hermione loved to learn new and useful things. She liked spending time with the older woman and they had got on well from the very start, which at least meant _one_ of the occupants of the house was pleasant to be around.

Dinner with Stefanie and Sophie as guests, was something Hermione was both looking forward to, and slightly nervous about. There was so much she wanted to know about them and their relationship, and what Sophie's status was: witch? muggleborn-witch? Yet, her reserved side was apprehensive about even asking those questions. Aimée had told her that she had asked the other veelas, in the community to keep their distance for a while, so as not to disturb the situation, which had been something of a relief. Hermione imagined that several of them would be annoyed, at not having their curiosity satisfied, but when she suggested that, even in jest, Aimée had said that they all understood how serious things had been and wouldn't dream of going against her wishes, or the common sense of it.

In wondering whether Fleur might be a little nervous about the impending dinner, and therefore even more snappy at her, Hermione had decided to offer her services to Aimée in collecting some ingredients from the fields surrounding the house, and made sure to take her time and only linger in either the shed or the workroom. Hermione then stayed in her room for a short time, when she got changed for dinner, assured that she wasn't expected to dress up and being herself and casual was all that Aimée expected.

The guests arrived at around 6.30pm and Hermione went down to meet them. As she entered the sitting room, Fleur had looked up and actually smiled at her, before the smile seemed to drop like a stone again, but before Hermione could think about that interaction Stefanie had engulfed her in a hug.

"We've been looking forward to this evening so much," Stefanie said. "Let me introduce you to my partner...and the love of my life."

The tall veela stepped back and Hermione saw for the first time, a woman about her own height, with long dark brown hair, and perhaps in her forties. She had a kind face with lively blue eyes, as she reached out for Hermione's hand and then pulled her into a light embrace.

"I'm Sophie," said the woman. "I've heard all about you and couldn't wait to meet you."

For a moment Hermione said nothing, as she was taking in so many things. Firstly, she was pleasantly surprised to sense that Sophie was a very easy-going woman and felt immediately at ease in her presence, but what had taken her slightly off guard was the accent. "You're...you're English?!" She then put her hand to her head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so stupid. I'm just surprised."

Sophie smiled warmly. "Well, my name can be ambiguous on nationality and obviously Stefanie never told you much about me...because she loves people to ask her instead." She flicked her eyes to her much taller, amused, partner. "She does that so people don't think she's showing off, instead of offering the information first. A psychological wonder, my lover!"

"Did you go to Hogwarts?" asked Hermione.

"No," said a still smiling Sophie. "They didn't know about me."

"Their loss, the total idiots!" offered Stefanie. "School rules are always so strict, it's ridiculous!"

"Yes dear, but why would they want a non-magical muggle?" said Sophie, with a laugh. She looked back to a truly astonished Hermione. "I'm not even a...what do you call it?...squib?! Just a plain old muggle!"

"You most definitely are NOT plain!" said Stefanie, wrapping an arm around her partner's shoulders.

"How? No, I mean...," Hermione stumbled for words. "But you know about us? The magical world? The veelas?"

"All happened by accident," said Sophie. "Well, to be precise, by Stefanie's accident."

At that moment Aimée walked through to them. "If you'd all like to come through, dinner is ready."

The women sat at the table, with Aimée at the head, Fleur opposite Stefanie and Sophie seated next to Fleur opposite Hermione. It was an agreed seating plan that Aimée and Hermione had spoken about earlier. As they took their seats, Fleur had smiled at Hermione again, but then looked away quickly. In those moments, when Fleur had looked genuinely pleased to see her, Hermione had felt a spark of hope and then felt it dashed again as the expression vanished, but thankfully the Frenchwoman hadn't said anything inflammatory.

As they all settled to the lovely meal of roast chicken with lots of vegetables and trimmings, they enjoyed talking about the food, and that moved on to some of the ingredients and herbs Stefanie wanted to take back with her, for her own potions.

Sophie was interested in Hermione's parents being dentists, and having spoken about her parents once or twice now, Hermione didn't feel quite so ashamed to admit to what she had done to them, and began to believe it perhaps wasn't such a bad thing to do at the time, when she had had very few options. However, it didn't stop her feeling sad about maybe never seeing them again. After dessert was nearly finished, Hermione wanted to change the subject and her curiosity came to the surface once more.

"You said something about an accident, earlier?" Hermione asked Sophie.

"Yes, that's right," Sophie replied. "In England. Stefanie was there and for some reason had been knocked down by a car. I was off-duty but saw it happen and accompanied her to hospital."

"Off-duty?" asked Hermione.

"My brilliant lover is a qualified muggle doctor," said a beaming Stefanie. "Whereas, I, was a poorly qualified pedestrian that day!"

"I made sure she was taken to my hospital, where I was a newly-qualified over-worked junior doctor, and I stayed with her. I wasn't sure why I did what I did, I just felt I had to see it through and make sure she was okay," said Sophie. "Of course, I know why, now, but I was clueless at the time."

"You didn't try to get away and go to St. Mungo's?" Hermione asked Stefanie.

"Not at that time, no," answered Stefanie. "After a couple of hours, something just happened and I didn't want to leave and I wanted to know every little thing about Sophie. I decided that a broken leg and pelvis wasn't so bad, and muggles have quite interesting ways of dealing with injuries, and it kept me around her too. I had no intention of going to a magical hospital after that."

"Oh," replied Hermione, understanding that Stefanie had found her true love and knew it.

"She was so very sweet," Stefanie continued. "She visited me on her breaks and before she went off duty."

"I see." Hermione couldn't think of anything else to reply with, not without prying, or turning the conversation to her own problems.

"I wasn't into girls," Sophie said, seeming to sense Hermione's nervousness and reserved curiosity. "It had always been blokes, but something about this woman...we connected on such a deeper level. It was almost like I'd been trying on the wrong sized shoes for years and I'd finally found an old comfy pair that were my true size and fit properly."

Stefanie let out a laugh. "She's calling me an old shoe!"

"I am not! But old shoes _are_ often more comfortable," said Sophie, with a cheeky smile that made her look almost like a teenager.

"How long did it take for you to... _know_?" asked Hermione timidly.

"Stefanie was in hospital for three weeks and we struck up a great friendship. She might have been a cunning axe murderer for all I knew, tricking me, but for some reason when I heard she had nowhere to stay other than a hotel, I offered her my flat, until she had the final cast off her leg and felt well enough to travel home."

"Stefanie probably jumped you the moment you walked into your flat!" said Fleur suddenly, surprising them all.

"No. I was the perfect patient and friend," said a still very amused Stefanie. "As you must know, Fleur, the feeling is so strong, but you do all you can to control it."

Fleur looked down at the table and nodded.

"After two weeks my 'perfect patient' was considering leaving...or using that as a ploy to see how I really felt. I've never known exactly which it was?!" said Sophie.

"I don't know either...probably a bit of both," said Stefanie, with a glint in her eye.

"Anyway, as she was suggesting that she would have to get back to France soon, I hugged her, as friends do, and suddenly felt overwhelmed at the thought of not having her around. As we pulled back from that hug, we looked at each other and kissed...and that was that." Sophie looked wistful and her eyes were glistening. "I'd never been made to feel what I felt then, and I knew that I loved her."

"Easy for you," said Fleur, in a grumbling way.

"No, it wasn't easy," said Stefanie. "I had to explain our world to a muggle. Once she knew, she might have changed her mind or thought I was crazy. I was lucky, she was open-minded and wasn't scared by what I told and showed her."

"Again, I say: easy for _YOU_!" said Fleur, annoyed. "You don't really know what I'm going through at all. You never hated the one you love, you never got hurt by them...hurt by just loving them and had it thrown back at you...you don't understand at all..." Fleur had tears rolling down her face and stood up and ran from the room to the stairs - which she stomped up - and that was shortly followed by a slammed door.

Hermione had a tear rolling down her cheek too. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" asked Stefanie.

"I never should have asked so much in front of her. It was rubbing salt into a wound, it was..."

"Hey, it's not your fault," said Stefanie, as she put her arm around the younger woman sat next to her.

"It's not your fault, Hermione," said Aimée as well. "Fleur is a bit like a shaken bottle of champagne, and we cannot guess when the cork will pop, or why."

"Stefanie," said Sophie. "Why don't you and Aimée go to Fleur and make sure she's okay, I saw her grimace as if in physical pain. Make sure there's no reaction. I'll talk with Hermione."

Stefanie stood up, walked around the table and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her partner's head. "The knowledge and voice of reason, as always, my love."

"Let's take a walk outside and see the sunset," Sophie said to Hermione as she stood up herself.

"Is Fleur okay? I didn't see she was in pain...I didn't realize...I _should_ have realized..."

"Hush. It wasn't obvious, only to someone who has seen one of these things happen before, several years ago. Let's get some fresh air."

The two women walked outside into the golden light of a summer evening coming to a close. They sat down on a bench outside of the potting shed and looked across one of the fields towards the darkening woods in the distance.

"If you're a doctor, why didn't you come with Stefanie when we first brought Fleur back here?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, that's not my field of expertise. Even if I could, I'd never step on Stefanie's toes in veela matters. And this situation was something she is an expert in. I have no idea how she does what she does, but it's often more effective in those with veela blood than anything human medicine can do. If the healing had not been that successful then I would have had a look at Fleur to see what I could do to aid her with any physical damage. But usually, I stay out of these things, unless I'm asked for."

There was a long pause as Hermione thought again about how lucky they had been, to catch Fleur soon enough, because Sophie had been talking as though she would only have been involved as a last resort, or even in an unspoken 'ease the suffering' kind of way, for a person dying and in pain.

"You're hurting just as badly as Fleur. I can see that. This is awful for you and probably confusing too?" offered Sophie.

Hermione sighed and found herself wiping more stray tears from her cheeks. "I'm confused and I'm so in love with her, and then confused at how that can be and why I'm taking this pain, and why I'm taking everything she's throwing at me, and that I can't seem to do anything right around her...I don't know what to do."

"I didn't experience what you're going through, but over the years I've seen Stefanie deal with two similar cases. Not so severe, but similar."

"Did they both work out?"

"Yes," said Sophie. "And I'm sure this will too. It might take time, but I saw Fleur a couple of times this evening when she looked at you. She _does_ love you. Veela blood is such a complicated thing and people without it will never fully understand it. They love powerfully, which is why Fleur's hate is also so powerful."

"I know part of her is trying to protect herself from me, from hurting her...I just don't know what to do. If I could kiss her, or hold her..." Hermione put her head in her hands. "...but I can't get close enough to even try that."

"Words," said Sophie. "Always talk. Words are actually the most powerful thing we mere humans possess. If you're magical you can speak a spell, if you want to hurt you speak an insult, words are always the thing that stay with us. We remember speech more than the written word...the rhythm, the light or smell in the air at the time they were spoken, what you were wearing. Words are always the key."

"I'll keep trying...I will. She hardly listens to me and seems to be annoyed with anything I say...but I _will_ keep trying," said Hermione. "Sorry to turn your evening into such a drama."

"I was expecting something," said Sophie, nodding. "I was actually amazed at how long it took for something to blow up."

"What did you think when you learned what Stefanie was? And about our world?" Hermione asked, trying to divert her rather depressed thoughts.

"I wasn't completely shocked. As a doctor, you get to see some very odd things and I'd seen a lot more than most. I often saw things I'm not sure I should have seen at all, but maybe that's because I was always open-minded to anything and that allowed me to see things that were perhaps of the magical world all along."

"Are you still a doctor? Do you still work?"

"Yes. I work a couple of days a week at a couple of hospitals, one in Nancy, and sometimes I'll visit other hospitals for interesting cases. Having a magical partner means the travel is much easier."

"Do you specialize in one type of medicine?"

"Women's health. I have clinics a few times a month for anything from gynaecological advice to family planning. It's hard to be in a veela community and not be interested in women's health," explained Sophie.

"I think that's wonderful."

"Some of the veelas here do too," said Sophie. "Some seem to prefer a little muggle medicine combined with magical. It's an interesting combination."

"I envy you," said Hermione, a long way past guarding her words around this friendly, kind, woman.

"You envy the settled relationship."

"It's not just that, although I would love to be with Fleur like you are with Stefanie," admitted Hermione. "I was also thinking in the broader sense. You know what you want to do, what you _wanted_ to do, and you did it and are living how you want to. I don't have a clue what I'm doing."

"You're eighteen?" asked Sophie, and when she got a nodded confirmation she said, "...you have so many options, and no one expects you to know what you want. You've only recently been through the biggest magical war in history, right on the front line, I'd be happy to be alive, and anything else is a bonus."

"If only it was as easy as that," said Hermione. "I have so much mess to tidy up...and probably more mess to come."

"I know there's Fleur, and your parents, and how the magical world in England is trying to rebuild itself, but you're also worried about the fact you're in love with a woman, aren't you?"

"Sort of," said Hermione. " _I_ have no problem with it, I don't think it's odd and that love is just love, no matter whom the person is, but telling other people...I can't even face that yet."

"Then don't face it," said Sophie simply. "If the question comes up, you can either deflect it or answer it. If someone goes as far as asking, it means they've thought about it in the first place, so they can't claim to be so damn shocked when you confirm it. Do you see straight couples going around having to keep telling people who they love and who they sleep with and why? Well apart from the indiscreet types who love to brag, it doesn't really happen. So why should _we_ have to keep saying it? Unless it's asked about, then you need say nothing...and even if it _is_ asked about, it's your business."

"You're right."

"Of course I am. However, if you want to tell _me_ how good Fleur is in bed, then I'm all ears!"

Hermione opened her mouth, slightly taken off guard, and then snorted with laughter, while blushing too.

"She's _that_ good?" said Sophie, laughing. "Lucky girl."

Hermione gave another laugh and when she went quiet again, she felt stronger about the situation with Fleur once more. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"I don't know. Understanding, I suppose."

Sophie turned slightly on the bench to look more towards Hermione, and got hold of her hand. "You'll always have a friend in me, and Stefanie too. But, with me, I understand what it's like to be the non-veela, to know what it's like to face those with veela-blood through their ups and downs. If you ever, _ever_ need anything, even if it's just to talk, please promise you'll come and find me. Call me. Please?" Sophie handed over a business card that had a mobile phone number, as well as the veela community number and a muggle land line.

Hermione put the card in her pocket and then clasped that hand over the top of Sophie's. "I promise."

When they got back to the house, after the sun had set, they found Aimée and Stefanie at the kitchen table talking.

"How is she?" asked Hermione.

"Sleeping, now," answered Aimée. "We made her take a sleeping potion."

"Was she hurt? Or made ill again?" Hermione asked.

"Only a little heart ache...quite literally," said Stefanie, but seeing Hermione's worried expression she quickly added, "The sleeping potion we gave her will help soothe that too."

"We had better be going," said Sophie. She went over to the now standing Aimée and hugged her. "Thanks for the lovely meal."

"We'll have you around again soon," said Aimée.

As Stefanie hugged Hermione she said, "Try not to worry. It will work out. I truly believe it will."

As much as Hermione had enjoyed Sophie and Stefanie's company and support, she still went to bed with a heavy heart, and as she climbed the stairs and reached the landing, she felt a physical tugging sensation, wanting desperately to go to Fleur's room, but she denied the feeling and went in the opposite direction to her own room, where her pillow became a little damp, as she shed tears before sleep claimed her.

 **A/N: The characters and back story of Stefanie and Sophie have been in my head a while, just waiting for a story to put them into in some way.**


	14. Breaking Point

14: Breaking Point

Another week passed, and although Fleur was trying hard not to voice what she was thinking when she spoke with Hermione, she still inevitably said something irritable and was constantly dismayed by how her emotions changed so fast around the younger woman.

Stefanie and Sophie had come to dinner another night and observed the tension was continuing to be dramatic around Fleur and Hermione. At separate times the two older women spoke to them both, if only to reassure them and that they shouldn't give up.

More days passed and Hermione received two letters; she was surprised they had been _that_ long in arriving, knowing the curiosity of the people back in England, despite the almost warning Aimée had given them, about leaving them in peace for Fleur to get well. She was still grateful that Aimée was dealing with the letters to Bill. She felt a little ashamed of how grateful she was about that, when Bill would always be a big factor in her life from now on; had she gone out with Ron, the oldest Weasley brother would still have featured in her life in some way.

One of her letters was from Ginny, who was being subtly nosy and hoping she wasn't getting too bored, or corrupted into supporting France at the next Quidditch World Cup. As she sat at the kitchen table reading the letter, it made Hermione smile, something she had done very little of in recent weeks. Ginny had then told her about Fred's funeral and even managed to find something funny about an incident during it, when the man taking the service had let his glasses slide and fall off his nose, and had then stamped on them while trying to find them, and although he repaired a lens, his glasses were wonky for the rest of the service. From all she read Hermione was amazed again at how the Weasleys coped with situations, and how they got on with life despite their huge losses. Even with those thoughts, about their coping powers, it made her apprehensive contemplating how the rest of the Weasleys would react to her current status.

The second letter was from Harry; he too was slightly nosy about what she was doing and the big secrecy over Fleur's illness and treatment, but as usual, he was very sweet and kind about it. He told her about some of the things happening at the Ministry and some of the students from Hogwarts too. At the bottom of the letter Ron had added a scrawled little message in his ever unruly handwriting: _'So much seems to be happening here! Hope you get back soon; have lots to tell you. It's not the same without you here telling us off about stuff! Love Ron.'_ Even that little scrawled message made Hermione smile, as it made her think of the early years of their friendship and the strange messages and letters which passed between the three of them. Despite the ever constant shadow of Voldemort, over Harry and the rest of them, they were such innocent times. She almost longed for those days again. Harry had added a section to his letter, telling her about a strange dream he had had, but she was interrupted and didn't finish reading it.

"Who's written?" asked a voice.

Hermione was stirred from her thoughts and saw that Fleur had walked into the kitchen, so she folded up the letters and made to stand up, such was her routine whenever Fleur walked into the same room, at the moment. Her theory was that, if she looked as though she was leaving the room anyway, then Fleur might not see the need to get prickly and nearly _make_ her leave her presence. "Ginny and Harry."

"Anything interesting?" asked Fleur, trying hard to keep on a subject that didn't have anything to do with being in the same room together, or how they felt.

In not wanting to get too deep on any one subject, Hermione said, "Ginny was just telling me about the Burrow and she's told me not to support the French quidditch team."

Fleur actually laughed. "That's always optional...I'm not sure _I_ even support them!? So is Harry okay?"

"Yes, he's fine. He told me about some of the students we knew and what they're up to. Nothing much, but it was nice to hear from them." It was at this point that Hermione felt the familiar awkward feeling and stood up fully, taking a basket from the table and heading for the door. "I said I'd look for some smouldering moss, from the woods at the bottom of the back field, for your grandmother."

"You don't have to go yet," said Fleur, feeling quite good that morning with Hermione there near her.

"It's the best time to collect it, while it's morning and there's still a bit of dew left on it," said Hermione with a smile, as she slid her letters into the back pocket of her jeans and walked towards the door. As usual, she had a little fight with the stubborn wooden door, having to put her basket on the floor, giving the door a kick and a thump in the right places before it would open, then she picked up her basket and was gone again. _Fleur was genuinely pleasant to me for a whole conversation,_ thought Hermione, hopefully, but was glad she hadn't pushed her luck for any longer.

Fleur sat back, poured herself a coffee and tried to keep her mind clear, but was aware that she was calmer about Hermione, so far that morning, and was also aware of how good that felt.

A while later, her grandmother walked in from her workroom. "Hermione gone already?"

"Yes, she said she wanted to get some moss or something?!" replied Fleur.

"Ah, she said she would get some for me today. She really knows her ingredients and what she doesn't know she picks up fast. I only have to teach her something once and she knows it," said Aimée.

"I know you're going to ask?!"

"What, dear?"

"If we talked, or argued, and that's why she left," offered Fleur.

"Oh that. Well, did you?" asked her interested grandmother.

"We talked about the letters she received today, and I didn't feel angry with her. I almost felt normal, but then she left. I asked her to stay a bit longer, but she wouldn't."

"It's a little progress, that's something," said Aimée with a nod of her head.

"I'm sure we've outstayed our welcome?!" wondered Fleur.

"Not at all," said her grandmother. "I've loved having you here. _Both_ of you. I only hope things happen soon, for your sakes, not mine."

Fleur stood up. "I'm going for a walk."

"Looking for moss by any chance?" said Aimée, with a knowing smile.

"I don't know. I...I might try," said Fleur. "I have to see if I can feel as calm in her presence as earlier. If I can, surely that means things are getting better, doesn't it?"

"Maybe...if not there are plenty of rooms in the house to retreat to."

Fleur nodded to her grandmother and kicked and pushed the door open, taking in the warm sunshine and fresh, crisp air: not too hot, not too cold. She looked ahead of her, at the trees on the near horizon, and started walking on the path at the side of the field. She had walked about a couple of hundred yards when she saw a piece of cloth on the ground. When she picked it up she realized it was in fact parchment that had got very slightly damp from the ground. She opened it and saw that it was one of Hermione's letters. _It must have fallen out of her pocket,_ thought Fleur.

Looking at it, she realized it was from Harry, and the curiosity that overcame her wasn't to do with what he had said to Hermione as such, but more wondering what might have been said about her absence. The letter mentioned people from the Order she knew and several names she didn't, which she assumed were students from school. It wasn't the most exciting letter she had ever read, but as she scan-read the contents and opened the last fold at the bottom, she stopped walking. She had reached Ron's scrawled message.

To begin with, she felt nothing, other than thinking that it was Bill's little brother avoiding writing a full letter by hijacking Harry's. But, then her inner veela soon awoke to it: Ron was sending messages and his 'love' to Hermione. Ron was sending messages wanting Hermione back in England, while she was here supposedly helping _her_?! Fleur began breathing heavily and walked faster towards the trees. _It's only a stupid letter!_ Her more rational side thought. _Yes, but from Ron and he doesn't say 'Best Wishes' he signs it 'Love'!_

She found Hermione crouched down at the bottom of a very old and root-laden tree, inspecting and then scraping, at some moss, before she seemed satisfied that it was what she wanted and then she cut a small section away with her knife.

"What's this?!" said Fleur, feeling her rage come to the surface, hearing her blood pounding in her ears.

Hermione jumped, dropped her knife and had to scuffle her feet, to regain her balance. "Fleur? I...I'm collecting some moss, like I said I was going to do."

"Not that, THIS?!" Fleur shoved the letter at her.

The younger woman looked at the parchment and the handwriting. "It's my letter from Harry," she realized, as she put a hand to her back pocket and only found the one letter from Ginny there. "It must have worked it's way out of my pocket when I had to tie the lace on my shoe on the way here."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"I don't understand?" asked Hermione confused. Firstly, she was surprised to see Fleur coming to find her at all, and then totally confused about why she was so agitated that Harry had written to her, when she had already told her about it earlier.

"Oh, NOW you don't understand. How convenient!?" spat Fleur. She wanted to walk away, but her blood felt like it was boiling and her feet would _not_ turn and walk away.

"I don't know what's wrong? I told you Harry wrote to me...he..." Then it hit Hermione that Ron had written on the bottom of it and as she glanced down at the letter she saw the words large and clear, as if they had been written much bigger than they had: _'Love Ron.'_ She dropped the forgotten moss, to join her knife on the ground, as she realized what Fleur was upset about.

"I don't mean anything to you, do I?" said Fleur, her voice wavering. "I'm a novelty. It's always been him, hasn't it?!"

"No it hasn't. Since we got together it's always been you. One small stupid moment in the Chamber of Secrets, which I'll regret for the rest of my life: that I was ever in a position for him to kiss me, but it's not him I want, it's you. It's _you_ I love!"

Fleur snapped, feeling out of control and unable to stop her words; all the calmness and goodness of feeling towards Hermione from earlier had rapidly disappeared. "I don't want you! I won't be second to him!"

"I love you," said Hermione, feeling her eyes fill with tears. At that moment she felt totally and utterly spent and a feeling of hopelessness descended on her. "It was only one stupid kiss with him, at a moment of stress in the middle of a battle and it took me by surprise. I haven't slept with him...I don't love him, I love _you_."

Fleur took a couple of stomping steps towards Hermione, and grabbed hold of her upper arms, painfully, before she shoved her away roughly, almost growling. "Don't you understand?! I don't care what you say, now. I don't want you!"

Hermione had literally been lifted a few inches off the ground and launched back a few feet, and she landed aganist the tree trunk and fell to the ground, among the tree roots, and yelped in pain. She had tried to reach for her wand from her pocket, but as she landed against the tree, it had flown free of both her pocket and her hand, landing just out of reach.

"I love you," Hermione repeated, through her tears. "I love you, Fleur."

Fleur looked down at Hermione, almost like a cat playing with a garden bird and trying to decide whether she would pick up the bird to play with it again, or go in for the kill. "I don't know why the hell you're still here anyway?!" _I need to walk away!_ Fleur thought. _A few paces and think..._

Hermione moved herself to sitting, then rose to her feet, using the tree trunk for support, as Fleur began walking away from her. She would have admitted, at that moment, that she felt a certain amount of fear. It was not only fear that Fleur might seriously harm her in this current mood, but also fear that this might be the 'pinnacle', and if she didn't try to do something then it might never, ever, be able to be put right. _Words._ She thought, the advice from Sophie coming to her mind unbidden. _Words..._

"You never gave up on me," began Hermione, and she struggled on, fighting back her tears, as the blonde woman stopped walking, which momentarily made the younger woman wonder if Fleur would turn back and throw her against the tree again, or worse.

"After Bellatrix had me, you were there for me the whole time and you said you'd be there however long it took," Hermone said, trying to carry on doggedly with what she wanted to say. "You cared for me for days, you made me feel safe and loved. You never rushed me, or forced me to do anything. I fell in love with you. Not the carer, but _you_ , the person underneath the professional. You let me see the real you and it was beautiful, _you_ are beautiful. You dried my tears and gave me the strength to go on. You saved me. You saved me from a...a very dark place. I have never felt more like myself than when I was with you. When you fell ill, all I wanted was to care for you, because you would never have given up on me, and _I'll_ never give up on _you_."

The Frenchwoman turned round to face Hermione; on instinct, the brunette backed away slightly, apprehensive of what might follow, and now she was wandless she knew how vulnerable she was, certain she was too emotional to competently try wandless magic. She carried on talking, as she put her hands back and felt the tree trunk behind her. "I'll never give up on you, Fleur. I love you. Whatever you think of me, I love you and I will be here however long it takes, because I'd rather be near you and rejected, than not be near you at all. I have no one else. I have no family, now, no one. My family is you."

Fleur took meaningful steps towards Hermione, who was shaking slightly with emotion, her head down, unable to keep eye contact any longer, as if she was bracing herself for something she expected to happen, and as if it was likely to be something unpleasant. Something had focused within Fleur, as though she needed a closer look at Hermione. She held the girl's upper arm again, firmly, but not roughly, and put her other hand under the woman's chin to raise her gaze to her. Hermione was trying to look strong and defiant, but there were tremors of fear, as well as tears, and she was pushing back against the tree, as if knowing she had no escape behind her.

 _I'm scaring her,_ thought Fleur; the notion coming to her as if through a mist and it didn't amuse her at all. It was as if she had a huge déjà vu moment; something seemed familiar: the trees, Hermione afraid, even the collecting of ingredients.

 _I love her so much,_ Fleur thought, suddenly. She moved her hand slowly, from the woman's upper arm to her cheek, wiping away a tear there. "I'm so sorry, I am so very sorry. Forgive me," said Fleur, as she leaned in and gently connected her lips to Hermione's.

A warmth seemed to spread from Fleur's lips to her chest, and as Hermione slowly stopped shaking and wrapped her arms around her and deepened the kiss, Fleur felt a dull pain from her chest to her stomach. She thought it was a good feeling, a solid real feeling, and she moaned into the kiss, then had to break for air.

"Fleur? Are you in pain?" asked Hermione, not quite believing what had happened and overjoyed to feel Fleur's lips on her own once more. She too had felt something in her chest, something she hadn't felt for weeks, that warm fluttery feeling, but she had also felt Fleur wince.

"I think I'm okay, just a bit of pain like...like before, but different."

"I think we should get back to the house, get your grandmother to look at you," said Hermione, instinctively.

"Why?" asked Fleur, mildly exasperated and marginally confused.

"Well, just moments ago you...you looked like you wanted to kill me, and then...finally we kiss again and...you're _not_ wanting to kill me, now...at least I _hope_ you're not," babbled Hermione nervously, hoping no anger returned to her lover, having been so sure that Fleur was nearly like her old self at this very moment. "But you've felt a pain similar to when I saw you at Hogwarts. Maybe something has happened; something good this time, but your grandmother needs to know."

Unable to answer, or quite believe what had happened herself, Fleur leaned in and pressed her lips to Hermione's again. Her chest still ached slightly. "I love you. I know it, and accept it," said Fleur, more to herself than to Hermione, closing her eyes tiredly. "And I'm so sorry about everything..I..."

"You couldn't help it," said Hermione, as she quickly added, "Let's not talk about that now, let's get you back to the house."

On the walk back to the house, the two women were arm in arm holding hands, and as Fleur glanced a few times to Hermione, her mind raced through what had just happened. She dared to think about Ron and the letter, which had so fired her up, and it didn't provoke any deep feeling in her, certainly not anger. Hermione's presence wasn't making her feel uncomfortable or irritated. It felt as if a veil had been lifted from Fleur's vision and she was seeing clearly again. At that moment she realized, and truly accepted, that she felt her love for Hermione deeply within her, and she had to put her other hand to her chest as a dull ache resonated.

"Are you all right?" asked Hermione, noticing Fleur's movement.

"I think so...I hope so," said Fleur. They walked into the kitchen of the house and she called for her grandmother.

Aimée walked through from her workroom, and saw the two women together, their body language entirely different from what she had seen before. Immediately she knew something had happened and that it was probably something good. "Have you something to tell me?"

"I think it's happened," said Fleur. "I think I've broken through that barrier, or whatever it was, that was making me push Hermione away."

"You're sure?" asked Aimée.

"We kissed," said Fleur. "I was angry with her, that Ron had written to her and...and I'm completely ashamed of myself, but it resulted in us kissing and then I felt it: I felt that pain go through me, a dull pain, similar but different."

Hermione was blushing slightly, but knew that everything was important to Fleur's well-being, every moment they were staying at the house. "I thought maybe you should check her over; make sure she's okay and not ill again."

Aimée guided her granddaughter to a chair and held one of Fleur's hands, as if taking a pulse, then she put her hand on the young woman's forehead. "As far as _I_ can tell, you are not ill like before," she said finally.

"Well, that's something," said Fleur. "I wonder why I'm getting those pains? I'm feeling very tired too."

"I suspect it might be the veela within you surrendering, stubbornly, to your feelings for Hermione," said Aimée with a smile. "I'm going to get Stefanie to come over, she knows much more about this kind of thing than me. Besides, if it _has_ happened, we'll need her advice now."

"Oh, is it time for her to do something?" asked Fleur with mild sarcasm.

"Possibly," said Aimée.

XXXXXXXXXX

In the ten minutes it had taken Stefanie to arrive, Hermione and Fleur hadn't said much. With Fleur feeling tired, her grandmother had suggested that they go into the sitting room to rest in more comfortable chairs. Without words, the women sat together on the sofa and, naturally, and with no thought, Hermione had put an arm around a tired Fleur and sat back with the blonde woman's head resting on her shoulder, her eyes closed. At that moment Hermione felt she could have slept too, and it would have been a peaceful, pure sleep.

When Stefanie arrived both she and Aimée were unable to hide their beaming smiles, as they saw the two younger women so obviously reconciled, or at least the veela blood within Fleur was reconciled.

"Hello, ladies," said Stefanie.

Fleur opened her eyes, and was reluctant to move her head from the comfortable place it was resting, and from the direct contact with Hermione, the younger woman's scent in her nose. _What an improvement!_ Thought Fleur. _At least I'm not trying to push her away. I only want more of her and to be close. What a fool I've been!?_

"Things have got a little better?" asked Stefanie, although the tall veela could see with her own eyes, and feel with her own senses, that things had changed.

"Yes," said Fleur, who actually felt a blush coming on, and smiled at herself and the situation.

"I can't tell you how pleased I am, for you both," said Stefanie.

"Are you able to check Fleur?" asked Hermione. "She's felt pain and tiredness since...since..."

"You kissed?" Stefanie offered. "Aimée has told me what happened. Let's have a look at you, Fleur."

Hermione moved to an armchair, as Stefanie sat next to Fleur and began to check her over, by holding her head gently at the temples, then moving one hand to the top of her chest. Hermione was fascinated as she watched, wishing that she could experience for one day the gifts that Stefanie and other veelas had. _Only for a day,_ she thought. _I'm not sure I could handle all the other things that come with it for longer than that._

After about ten minutes, Stefanie removed her hands, and Fleur tiredly rested back into the sofa. It worried Hermione a lot, and she found she was clasping her hands together waiting for the verdict.

"All is well," said Stefanie in a soft voice. "There is no new damage, and Fleur is only feeling tired and ill as her veela blood accepts Hermione again. It was a huge hurdle to cross, to decide to do that, and I'm sure it was quite unconventional and not a gradual process to get to this point."

"Er...no...it wasn't," replied Hermione. "We were arguing...about...things."

"I know," said Stefanie, with a candid nod of her head. "Whatever the case, Fleur will be all right. She'll be tired for a couple of days and may experience some aches and pains, but it is not for bad reasons."

"That's good to know," said Fleur, sleepily.

"So, what happens now?" asked Hermione, not knowing what to expect.

"You need to be together, to strengthen the healing bond, and be together as a couple for about three weeks," said Stefanie, matter-of-factly.

"I thought you had to do something for us, now?" asked Fleur. "Something with our bond? Or is another of the veelas going to do that?"

"I can do it," said Stefanie, then she spoke as if thinking out loud. "But I'm not sure it should be now, before you're completely well, Fleur. Your case is quite different to others I have dealt with, for its intensity, severity of detachment and other factors. We would always recommend that it be done soon, but this isn't ideal...and I'm wondering...if we should defer it. Although, that has unknown..."

"What is it you recommend, or need to do?" asked Hermione, interrupting, feeling tired herself now.

Stefanie looked to Aimée, as if asking permission, and the older woman simply nodded her assent. "I need to join you, to bond you to each other. It's not always done, but in your case I would advise it, to make sure of Fleur's healing and your attachment to each other."

"Well, if it's just prodding inside our heads and making sure we join up, then go ahead," said Fleur.

"That's not what happens," said Stefanie seriously. "My gifts before were only to heal and to make sure you were indeed the compatible ones for each other."

"What is it?" asked a wary Hermione.

"I will need to bond you. It can make you very tired and in your cases it's making me uncertain..."

Hermione had looked to Fleur and they nodded to each other. "If it's better to do this now, then we're ready. How or what does it involve?"

"A magical bond is made between you, similar to a...how do I describe it?" said Stefanie thinking of a comparison.

"An Unbreakable Vow?" suggested Hermione.

"Similar," replied the German woman. "I draw the links from you both and join them together. Veelas have done this for centuries, as we have found it is the safest and most desirable thing we can do for 'real' partners. But, as I said, it can make you very tired for a day or two, I don't want to make Fleur any more ill than she has to be."

"Look, I'm tired _now_. I've been tired or ill a lot lately, I can cope," said Fleur. "Let's do this properly."

"This might make you both exhausted, and I'm not completely sure of Hermione's reaction because of the...erm...'unknown factor'," said Stefanie.

"What 'unknown factor'?" asked Fleur, confused.

"It's time we told her," said Aimée.

"Told me what?" Fleur was now looking worried.

"We don't know how, and I've never come across it myself, although there's been talk in past generations..."

"Yes?" asked an impatient Fleur. "Just tell me!"

"Somehow Hermione has a part of you, a part of your soul, within her. You transferred it to her at some point, probably without knowing it. It is likely the reason for why the separation was more severe and the reunion has been more difficult."

"How could that have happened? Unless it was when we...?" Fleur felt a faint colour reach her cheeks.

"We don't think so," said her grandmother. "We think it might have been a little before that. It was transferred because of pure devoted love, not from lust or physical contact as the catalyst. After all, if it were possible from the heights of passion alone, there would be a lot of bits of veela soul floating around the population!"

Fleur sat, looking dazed, amazed and overwhelmed all at the same time. She thought back to the time when she and Hermione had begun their relationship. She couldn't think of any one moment; there had been several moments: their first proper kiss of Hermione's choosing, and all those nervous moments before making love was a result. Then she thought back on the early few days of Hermione first being at Shell Cottage.

"You remember something?" asked Aimée, who had been watching her granddaughter closely and seen her expression of realization.

"I think it had begun to happen the first night after Hermione arrived; I slept in the same bed and held her for reassurance. And a day or so later I was very aware of her, more than I expected from veela protectiveness. She became ill again, suddenly..."

"I remember! I had to run to the bathroom, and it was awful...just because Bellatrix had been mentioned," said Hermione, remembering those days both reluctantly and gratefully.

"That night, as I held you while you slept...," said Fleur, in a very quiet voice, and her eyes full up. "...I wept and admitted my love for you, and that all I wanted was for you to get well, whatever it took, even if you never felt anything for me. I think if it hadn't happened by then, that moment might have done it; I've never felt so raw and vulnerable, and as protective of you, as I did then."

"Hmm, I think it might have been then, or at least sealed the transference," said Stefanie. "It makes sense. At a later time we'll talk to you about the fact that this situation has allowed Hermione to explore that relaxing field your grandmother taught you."

"That's a veela talent?" asked Fleur, her eyes wide. "I thought it was just for relaxation to help my tempers?"

"Not a talent as such, but more of a rite of passage...we'll talk more at another time," said Aimée. "But Hermione was able to access it too, thanks to that part of you within her. It will be for later."

"Yes, it's more important to join you for now," said Stefanie. "And to be sure of that part."

"The cottage is ready," said Aimée. "It's been ready since they arrived."

"What cottage?" asked Fleur. "I don't remember you talking about a cottage before?"

"A place where you can be together, without us old ones bothering you. We've prepared it for you," said Aimée.

"Let us go there in a few minutes and carry out the bond there," said Stefanie. "I'll go on ahead and wait for you at the cottage."

"I need to pack a few things," said Fleur. "I don't have much with me."

"You go and do that, while I'll get Hermione some potions to take with you, in case either of you feels unwell," said Aimée, leading Hermione towards the workroom.

Fleur rolled her eyes at that, and dragged herself up the stairs to pack, an excited spark within her, at the prospest of being alone with Hermione. _I have no energy to do anything much,_ she thought, amused. _But it will be nice...to get to know her again...after everything..._

Aimée handed a couple of small potion bottles to Hermione, for headaches and stomach upsets, which she put into her beaded bag.

"Are you ready for this, Hermione?"

"I think I am." Hermione replied. "I don't know exactly what the bond is, but I love Fleur, and that's...that's enough to decide it for me."

"When you're bonded, it is indeed like an Unbreakable Vow," explained Aimée. "In many ways it is like being married, but much deeper. You're very young, I would understand if you cannot face that prospect yet."

"I'm eighteen, not twelve!" said Hermione, marginally ruffled. "Besides, we can't be apart now, I love her and I want to be with her. The bond doesn't scare me or make me doubt, nor does this part of her soul within me: it makes me feel stronger."

"You _could_ be apart," said Aimée, almost echoing what her daughter, Apolline, had talked about with Hermione. "It would be a very long and despairing journey, but Fleur could be apart from you and healed from the effects. It's been done a few times in our history, it's not impossible. And I'm sure that soul particle can be transferred back again."

"Aimée, I know you're trying to protect your granddaughter, and you're giving me the chance to walk away before this almost final contract, but I can't. After everything you've told me, I can't leave her. I love her too much, to put her through another separation and I love her too much to walk away."

The older woman gave a warm smile. "I only wanted you to know your options. And that, if you have any doubts, not to make a mistake, for both your sakes."

"Thank you," said Hermione, who then smiled herself. "I know why you said it, but I'm too invested now."

"Well, at least by doing this now, we're sparing you the entire veela family and coven taking part," said Aimée with a chuckle. "They'll still want to see you both in a couple of weeks' time, I have no doubt. It's been all I can do to keep them from visiting these past few weeks!"

"I'd better go and pack my few things too," said Hermione, as she went upstairs to her room, with a determined stride. She had never felt more certain about committing to Fleur, with this veela bond, than she did now, despite how dangerous and uncomfortable events had been earlier in the day, and how deep and final the bond sounded. It all made her feel stronger and more certain about her choice than any other decision she had ever made.

XXXXXXXXXX

The cottage was very small, but homely. It had thick stone walls, which would be cool in the summer and no doubt kept out the cold in winter. There were only three rooms downstairs, which included a living room area, and a kitchen area, with a small dining table and a pantry, off from the kitchen. There were also three rooms upstairs: two small bedrooms and a bathroom. It had possibly been a small lodge for a gamekeeper or a warrener, but it felt very welcoming.

When Hermione, Fleur and Aimée arrived, they found that Stefanie had set out a light lunch for them, as early afternoon had arrived by this time. The two younger women didn't feel overly hungry due to the apprehension over what was going to happen. After lunch, they were given a quick tour of the cottage and saw that the walk-in larder pantry, leading off from the kitchen, was well-stocked for them. Everything was ready.

They decided that the joining ritual would be done upstairs in the main bedroom, because if they both felt unwell, or exhausted, they could lie down straight away. That was an unknown factor for both of them. Although Stefanie was experienced with the bond, it wasn't something she did every day, every week, or even every year.

"If we're all ready, I'll begin," said Stefanie.

Hermione looked to Fleur and nodded, the Frenchwoman nodded back and smiled.

Stefanie stood at the end of the old double bed in the room. "Stand in front of me and face each other," she instructed.

Fleur and Hermione faced each other, and Stefanie lifted Fleur's left hand and got her to hold Hermione's left hand, but in more of a wrist hold than a handshake.

"Er...do we say anything?" asked a nervous Hermione, suddenly wondering if she should have prepared something.

"It's not necessary," said Stefanie, then she gave a knowing smile. "You may prefer to say something when you're alone, though."

"Oh...right," said Hermione, knowing she was blushing already.

"This will take a few moments, and you might feel some odd sensations. I can't say for sure what it will be, because every couple can feel something slightly different," said Stefanie, as she held the younger women's clasped hands in her own and closed her eyes.

Hermione was waiting to feel something, as she stared at their joined hands, thinking that she might feel a tingling in her arm, or even see their 'link' physically joined for a second. A minute passed, which seemed like an age and she felt nothing. She looked up at Fleur in front of her, who also looked up and gave her a nervous smile. They both then looked at Stefanie, who was as still as a statue with her eyes shut. Hermione wanted to burst out laughing for some reason, and she suspected that was nervousness.

 _How long is this going to take?_ Hermione thought. _We never asked, and I don't think I should speak, now._

Fleur let out an audible little sigh, feeling tired already that day, and wondering herself how long it was going to take and having some fears that it wasn't working, or wouldn't work, for some reason. She felt she shouldn't say anything to break Stefanie's concentration, or whatever it was she was doing, so she looked over to her grandmother, wondering if she could get some kind of confirmation from her, that things were going to plan. As she was about to move her head, in a silent gesture to her grandmother, she was stopped in her thoughts and movement by a strange sensation. _It's begun! s_ he thought, and not without a little spark of anxiety.

She could feel a warm feeling deep in her chest, that seemed to spread to the rest of her body, down to her toes. It was followed swiftly by a tugging sensation and then her left arm felt almost uncomfortable. It felt like someone had wound a hot rope around her arm and was pulling on it, sliding the rope round and around her arm. It wasn't painful, but very unsettling. As the sensation reached her hand, she felt pins and needles in her fingers and palm, and then the feeling of the rope being wound back up her arm. She looked at Hermione, wondering if she was feeling the same.

Indeed, Hermione was feeling similar sensations and was just as unsettled. The feeling of burning rope around her arm was not pleasant to her at all. It took her back to the Room of Requirement and battling with fiendfyre, scorching them as they tried to escape it; it took her back to the vault in Gringotts with the scalding hot, multiplying items. She concentrated on taking a few breaths to steady herself, as her hand went numb and prickled, as if someone was pressing a wire brush into her palm and fingertips. She wanted to unclasp her hand, but knew she shouldn't.

She looked over to Fleur, who appeared equally surprised and unsure of what she was feeling. It was then that Hermione felt the burning rope come back: coming back up from her hand to her wrist. She looked at it, so certain it was really burning, or that there was really a smouldering rope to see. There was nothing to see, however. The rope sensation worked its way up her arm and was as far has her shoulder, and as it seemed to enter her chest and warmed her whole body, she closed her eyes, her breath shallow as she tried to absorb everything. The heat was slowly working its way through her body, and as she felt her feet warm up again, to a level that was nearly painful, she was jolted. Bellatrix was suddenly holding her arm painfully, and the soles of her feet burned. She started to shiver and feel faint and she couldn't open her eyes.

"No! Please no!" said Hermione in a croaky whisper, delirious and unaware of what was real and what wasn't.

"Keep hold of her, Fleur," said Aimée, as she saw that the Englishwoman was experiencing something unusual, which might jeopardize the ritual.

Fleur kept tight hold of Hermione's wrist, and held her other arm also. _What's going on?_ she wondered, worriedly. _Please don't say she doesn't want this now?! After everything?_

"No!" said Hermione, so obviously trying to get away, her eyes fluttering open and looking wild and frightened.

Another couple of minutes, which were like an eternity, and finally Hermione felt her wrist released and her feet begin to cool. She was breathing heavily, and swayed, so that Fleur and Stefanie grabbed her to stop her falling.

"No more, Bellatrix...no...," uttered Hermione, so sure that the Death Eater had tightened her grip on her arms, and then everything went black.

"Did she say, Bellatrix?!" asked Aimée, as Stefanie and Fleur moved the now unconscious Hermione onto the bed.

"Yes," said Fleur, fighting back her own exhaustion. "I think she had a flashback, to when she was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Poor girl," said Stefanie, sitting tiredly on the end of the bed. "Poor, poor, girl."

"Is it done?" asked Fleur. "Was the bond finished?"

"Yes, you are joined," said Stefanie, as she turned and looked worriedly at Hermione. She rested her hand gently on the brunette's forehead and a moment later nodded her head, relieved, that the young woman had fainted and nothing else. "Your three weeks together begins, now. In truth, we only need two weeks, but we always say three to be on the safe side. We were going to leave now, but I don't like leaving with Hermione having had such a bad experience from the ritual."

"It's all right," said Fleur, as she wiped a tear from her cheek. "I was with her before, I'll be with her now. We have time. I'll help her again if she needs it."

Stefanie stood up. "If you need anything, or anything else unusual happens, or you feel ill yourself, call me or your grandmother. We'll come to you. Don't hesitate to ask for help, okay? We're just a call away."

"Promise us," said Aimée.

Fleur hugged her grandmother. "I promise."

"Well, we'll leave you, then," said Aimée, reluctantly, worried for both her granddaughter and Hermione. "This should be such a happy moment for you both. I'm so sorry, my beautiful one."

"I _am_ happy," said Fleur. "Much happier than I was yesterday. I'm bonded to the woman I love. After everything, I feel I can finally live. I'll look after her; she's mine to look after, now."

"I love you, Fleur," said Aimée. "And I'm going to miss your grumpy face around my house!"

"I'll be back again soon, Grandma."

"One last thing I _will_ say," said Stefanie, before she followed Aimée out of the bedroom door. "You may experience very intense... _feelings_...if you know what I mean? Another reason for this time together away from others; that's all quite natural and will pass back to something more normal in a few days. It might be easier to give in to those feelings and not fight them...well, you'll see when it happens."

"Oh...er...okay," said Fleur, wondering what 'feelings' those would be, and then she felt her cheeks colour, as she considered Stefanie probably meant something sexual.

"Take care," said Stefanie as she left. "And congratulations."

"Thank you for everything."

After a few moments, and feeling slightly bewildered by everything, Fleur heard the light cracking sound of both older women Disapparating downstairs; she sighed and then looked back to the bed where Hermione was. It wasn't what Fleur had in mind for a ritual close to marriage, but she didn't really mind, because when she looked at Hermione, she no longer had that traitorous part of her hating the girl and trying to push her away. When she looked upon Hermione, she felt love; deep pure love with a bit of passion on top. _I think we'll have to pass on the wedding night!_ she thought, amused.

Fleur was feeling very tired herself; when she looked at Hermione and guessed what she had reacted to she wanted to cry. What should have been a happy moment for the brunette, was stolen by the deranged Death Eater. She almost wished Bellatrix was still alive so she could kill her herself, instead of Mrs. Weasley having done so. She got next to Hermione on the bed; the younger woman seemingly asleep now. It was a warm day and it was heading for late afternoon, but Fleur pulled a sheet over them both and lay down.

For a time Fleur was unsure as to how to lie in the bed. For all the world she wanted to wrap an arm around Hermione, but as they hadn't been like that since the brunette had left Shell Cottage, and she had obviously experienced a bad flashback, she didn't want to assume anything and to alarm her. As she was having this internal debate and dilemma about her sleeping position, Hermione suddenly moved, inhaled a sharp breath and coughed.

Hermione looked around, and didn't know where she was for a moment, and when she felt someone next to her in the bed, she nearly jumped as if startled. Then everything came back to her, and she groaned, with relief, confusion and a little embarrassment.

"Hermione?" Fleur asked in a soft voice.

The younger woman turned to look at Fleur, then closed her eyes and frowned. "What happened?" However, she seemed to remember as soon as she had asked."Shit! I'm so sorry! I messed things up, didn't I?"

"There's nothing to be sorry for," said Fleur. "You didn't mess up anything. You had an awful experience, that's all. You're the important thing here: that you're okay?"

"I think...I think it was the scalding hot feet thing, it sent me straight back to _her,_ " admitted Hermione. "I feel so stupid."

"Stefanie said that we might experience strange things. I had the warm feet thing too, and a burning rope sensation around my arm."

"Me too. It wasn't very comfortable."

"No, it wasn't what I expected either."

"Are _you_ okay, Fleur? Do you have any pain?" asked a concerned Hermione, as she held Fleur's hand, noticing how exhausted the blonde woman looked.

"I'm very tired, but I'm all right," said Fleur, as she took Hermione's hand and brought it to her lips, kissing the knuckles softly.

"So...are we joined? Did the bond take place? Or does it have to be done again?" wondered Hermione.

"We're bonded, joined, whatever you want to call it," said a smiling Fleur. "Our three weeks have begun, now. Hmm, I wonder if the burning rope thing and the heat we felt, was because we've had a rather fiery relationship so far, and definitely in recent days."

"Perhaps." Hermione smiled a smile which made Fleur's heart swell. "I love you, Fleur."

Fleur leaned over Hermione and gently kissed her, revelling in the feel of her lips, her arms around her neck and the scent of the woman. "I love you."

The couple shared a few more delicate kisses, then Hermione pulled back a little. "I'm sorry, Fleur. I'm so tired. I feel like I've been running a marathon or something...and perhaps fell down and had a car run over me as well."

"I'm tired too," replied Fleur as she rolled back. "Can I hold you while we sleep?"

"Of course," said Hermione with a beaming smile. "I've yearned for that since I left you all those weeks ago."

She pulled out her beaded bag and found a pair of shorts and a T-shirt to sleep in and the same for Fleur, and with a flick of her wand changed them into the clothes. Rolling onto her side, Hermione dragged Fleur's arm around her, encouraging her to spoon her from behind, and felt so satisfied to feel the blonde woman's body against her own. _What a day!_ Hermione thought. _From letters, to the argument from hell, to being bonded. I've been joined and bonded to Fleur. SHIT! I'm bonded to Fleur!_ She was too tired to think on it any more, or what it really meant in the bigger sense, and drifted off to sleep.

Fleur was feeling utter contentment too, as she placed a kiss on Hermione's ear and settled her head on the pillow. _I can't believe we've reached this point,_ she thought. _I can't believe that she put up with me for so long, that she stuck by me like that._ She closed her tired eyes and found sleep.


	15. Intensity

15: Intensity

A couple of hours later Hermione awoke, initially confused by her surroundings, until the memories flooded back. She felt Fleur's arm wrapped around her, the scent of lily-of-the-valley permeating the air, announcing that it could only be Fleur in bed with her. She inhaled a deep relaxed breath and lightly covered the hand wrapped around her, with her own, and closed her eyes again.

Hermione felt a warmth within her chest, with none of the unpleasant feelings from the joining ritual; she felt safe, content and suddenly... _very_ aware of Fleur. She could feel the heat of the woman's hand radiating up into her palm, and despite wearing clothing she was aware of the woman's body pressed against her. The warmth enveloped her and spread through her body, settling almost uncomfortably in her lower abdomen.

 _That's different!_ thought Hermione, still with her eyes closed, as the warmth began to make her lower abdomen almost tingle. _It feels almost like..._ her thoughts were cut off as it hit her. _It feels almost as though..._ She clenched her thighs together and felt her groin ache as if she had been incredibly aroused. And once she had recognized that feeling, her mind filled with thoughts of the time she had spent with Fleur at Shell Cottage, and of how the Frenchwoman's touch had felt as they made love.

Fleur was aware of movement from Hermione and that she had sighed and taken a breath. "Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Everything okay?"

"Uh...I think so." The sound of Fleur's sleepy, soft voice was resonating through Hermione, making her whole body tingle even more.

"You think so?"

"Yes. I'm fine," said the brunette, trying to sound sleepy.

Taking a relaxed breath herself, Fleur adjusted her position slightly and held Hermione to her more, as she closed her eyes again, which unbeknownst to her, made Hermione's current disposition worse.

 _Whew! What the hell is wrong with me?_ thought Hermione as she avoided squirming, her groin positively throbbing. Her heart was racing and her breathing shallow, made worse by trying to hide it from Fleur. After everything that had happened, she was unsure how long it would be before they felt comfortable enough to be very intimate with each other again. However, where the older woman held her, she felt even more warm, and had it not been the localized placement of the warmth, she would have said she had a fever.

Hermione tried to think of something else and go back to sleep, but she couldn't relax and she had to clench her thighs to relieve some of the ache; after a time, this did nothing to alleviate her problem at all and only made her more aware of her arousal. She was becoming almost frantic for some reason, and was unable to stop herself making small movements to try and free herself from her predicament.

Fleur opened her eyes, initially worried that Hermione was in fact shivering again. She soon saw that the younger woman was fidgeting, and was about to move her arm away, thinking she needed to stretch and change position to get back to sleep, when she realized something: she could _smell_ Hermione. Her nose detected it like a homing beacon; she could smell Hermione's scent, which she hadn't done since the brunette had left Shell Cottage, and the thought sent a burning heat spreading through her. It was all she could do to stop the veela within from grabbing hold of Hermione and claiming her.

 _Relax!_ Fleur thought. _They said I might feel intense things, but I have to be calm. She might not want that much physical contact yet._

"Do you need to move, Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you uncomfortable? I can move and give you space...," said Fleur, going against what her body was aching to do and actually making a move to take her arm away, from around Hermione. However, she was surprised when Hermione grabbed hold of her hand.

"Don't!" said Hermione.

"Don't...?" wondered Fleur, slightly confused as to what it was that Hermione didn't want.

"Shit!" exclaimed Hermione, as she let out a breath and briefly buried her head in her pillow, clasping Fleur's hand tightly around her.

"What's wrong?"

Hermione moved back and turned to lie on her back, looking back up at Fleur as the Frenchwoman leaned over her. "I...I...," she tried to say, but gave up and pulled Fleur down to kiss her.

The kiss was needy, and very quickly passionate, with Hermione's hands grabbing hold of the back of Fleur's T-shirt. After a minute or two they both broke away, nearly panting. Fleur could feel an intensity surging through her, but Hermione would have called her's an inferno.

"It's so good to be able to kiss you again," said Fleur, as she looked into Hermione's darkened eyes.

"It is," agreed Hermione, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

She brought Fleur down for another kiss, making it slower and trying to calm herself down, hoping that a gentle, tender kiss would stop her body from being so irrational. It didn't work: the more tender the kiss, the more it seemed to ignite Hermione's passion. Finally, she gave a groan of frustration at herself, that came out as more of a growl.

"Hermione? What's going on?" asked a concerned and confused Fleur. "Is it flashbacks?" Although she detected Hermione's arousal, she knew that fear could sometimes make a person react in the same way and she didn't want to assume anything, not after what had happened from the ritual.

"No, it's not that," said Hermione, as she rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands.

"Talk to me...I...I know I haven't been here for you lately, but I'm here now," said Fleur. "You can tell me anything."

"It's hard for me to...to put into...words...," Hermione tried to say, then getting suddenly frustrated at both not being able to say what she wanted, from embarrassment, and not being able to relieve the feeling between her legs, she kissed Fleur again.

Fleur found it hard to object and if Hermione wanted kisses, then she was only too happy to oblige. The younger woman was continuing to struggle with herself, and as her tongue connected with Fleur's, her inner walls clenched, making her moan, which she then added a groan to. She was getting hot and bothered and feeling almost insane.

Once again, Fleur broke the kiss and looked at Hermione. "Tell me..."

Instead of trying to explain in timid, stuttering words, or giving time for adjustment, Hermione could fight herself no longer. Only a small part of her normally rational personality remained, and that was the only tiny part of her that was shocked at herself, when she got hold of Fleur's hand, and in a swift movement, guided it down her shorts and pressed it tightly against herself, gasping as she felt the contact.

"Hermione...?" said a truly stunned, Fleur.

"Please, Fleur," Hermione almost pleaded. "I can't explain...I...please!"

No other words were needed, as Hermione's need soon became Fleur's need. They dispensed with their clothing, their bodies needing to feel as close as possible, recognizing that it wasn't only lust surging through them, but love too. Fleur's hand worked away between Hermione's legs, as she frequently kissed the younger woman, swallowing her moans of pleasure. She kissed her neck and briefly lavished some attention on her breasts, before Hermione pulled her back for another kiss. Fleur's body was burning too and she moved to straddle Hermione's thigh to relieve herself at the same time, but the brunette felt what her lover was doing and moved her hand down between Fleur's legs, rubbing the place she was most needed, the Frenchwoman giving a growl-like response of her own.

The women's bodies writhed against each other, both of them glowing with sweat, as they reached their climax together. Even after that, it hadn't felt enough. Hermione continued to feel the ache in her groin as if she hadn't reached her climax at all. She was so tired, but she was feeling so frustrated too. Fleur was lying beside her recovering and she didn't want to exhaust her further, so Hermione, not caring about being embarrassed anymore and beyond that point, slid her own hand between her legs to try and bring more relief to herself.

Fleur felt very tired but she also felt unsated. She was surprised to feel Hermione moving so soon and she opened her eyes to see her lover masturbating. In her current state, Fleur was immediately turned on and let out a moan as she felt her inner walls clench again, seeing this. For the moment, she couldn't think on the insecure fact that maybe she hadn't satisfied Hermione, or given her what she needed. The blonde woman gave some attention to Hermione's breasts, sucking on a nipple and letting her tongue play with it, as she looked down every so often at her lover pleasuring herself. Fleur couldn't resist any longer, and kissed her way down, and swiftly replaced Hermione's fingers with her mouth and tongue, playing with the girl's clit, much as she had her nipple, as she entered her with her fingers, aiming at her special place.

In a very short time, Hermione could feel herself coming; her orgasm felt like it ripped through her, making her yell out Fleur's name. Her chest ached and her groin burned, and she began to shiver.

Seeing the shivering, Fleur immediately moved up the bed and held Hermione. "Are you okay?"

"I'm...I'm fine!" Hermione managed to say around panting breaths. "Good shivers! Not...not the other...kind!"

Leaning over the brunette, Fleur pressed a few gentle kisses to her cheeks and then her lips. "I love you, Hermione."

Almost at once, Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears. "I love you, Fleur."

Arranging herself close to Hermione, but giving her room to breathe, Fleur then pulled up the sheet to cover them. The younger woman continued to give the occasional shiver, and Fleur wrapped an arm around her.

"I'm sorry," said Hermione, a few minutes later.

"What about?"

"Well... _this_!" said Hermione, embarrassed. "I...I felt...I needed you so badly. Physically needed you. I still feel sort of wired. It's like I can't get enough."

"Maybe it's because I'm tired and I couldn't...," Fleur wondered properly for the first time.

"No, it's not you," said Hermione, immediately. "Don't worry about that...it's me; I was aching for you. I'm...well...I still am a bit...I've never felt like this before."

"Hmm," considered Fleur. "I think it's the bond. Stefanie told me, before they left, that we might experience intense feelings."

"Did they say anything about the non-veela feeling it the worst?" asked Hermione, with amusement.

"No," said Fleur with a little laugh. "I think anything's possible. As you have a little piece of my soul, you're probably experiencing a little of the veela within."

"Oh I've _had_ the veela within!" Hermione answered, laughing, before she whispered, "Twice today already!"

Fleur laughed, which then made her chest ache enough for her to grimace; she saw Hermione's concern. "I'm okay. They said I might feel a few aches and pains. It's all for good reasons."

The pair of them slept for a little while longer, before getting up and dressed to have some dinner downstairs, courtesy of the well-stocked kitchen and larder. Later, they decided to have a bath together, but they had to alter the size of the bath tub first. Hermione insisted on undressing Fleur the slow way, peeling off her T-Shirt and trousers, placing a kiss or two on the bare skin she exposed.

Fleur insisted that she then undress Hermione. She undid the buttons on the lightweight shirt Hermione was wearing and helped take the garment off one arm, then the other, and her jeans soon followed in a heap on the floor. Fleur walked behind Hermione to undo her bra, but she suddenly halted all movement. As she looked at Hermione's back, there were two or three discoloured marks and a couple of marks to the back of her thighs. Gently running her hand over the woman's back, she looked at the marks more closely: red welts turning a purple colour.

"No! Shit no!" Fleur said, as she took her hands from Hermione and put one hand to her mouth in shock, knowing how it had happened, and that they hadn't been in a position earlier for her to have seen it before, lazily getting dressed and undressed using a flick of a wand.

"What?" asked Hermione, as she turned around to face Fleur.

"I've hurt you! You're covered in bruises." The Frenchwoman's eyes filled with tears.

Hermione guessed what the bruises were: there had only been one incident that could have caused them, and that was earlier in the day when Fleur had virtually thrown her against a tree. With everything else that had happened, Hermione hadn't felt any pain from the bruises and only felt a little stiffness now. She took the blonde woman's hands in her own. "You didn't mean it."

"At the time, I meant it! I remember!"

"Yes, but it wasn't really you, it was the confused, hurt, part of you lashing out."

"I hurt you. I remember the fear in your eyes, I...I could have killed you."

"You didn't," said Hermione calmly. "You were hurt so badly by our separation that your body was trying to reject me. You _know_ this."

"I know it, but it doesn't make it any better. You loved and trusted me, and I did _that_ to you!"

"I still love and trust you," said Hermione.

"Fuck! I'm no better than Bill and his werewolf issues," said Fleur, as a stray tear rolled down her cheek. "I can't be trusted."

"This was different," said Hermione. "I've felt your touch, Fleur. I know what a gentle lover you are. I know what a gentle person you are. You're passionate but not aggressively won't happen again; we'll have our time together, we're joined, it _won't_ happen again."

"That's what all women say about the partners who beat them."

"You didn't _beat_ me!" said Hermione, slightly exasperated and feeling tiredness creep up on her as well as the unending tingle of desire creep back to her groin. "It was just one of those things. It happened, we can't change it. We can only look forward, now."

"You should have left me...you should have...," said Fleur, feeling utterly ashamed.

"Hey, it happened, but how I feel about you does not include my leaving you. Not again, ever!" said Hermione, as she took off her bra and briefs and wrapped her arms around Fleur, loving how their bodies felt together. She pressed some kisses to Fleur's neck. "Come on, I want to lie back in your arms in this bath, now."

Fleur shook her head, as if to shake away the shame and guilt, and nodded to Hermone as she removed her underwear and got into the bathtub first, before Hermione got in and sat between her legs and leaned back against her.

After a quiet few moments, Hermione became very aware of Fleur's breasts against her back, being able to detect the nipples touching her skin. Hermione had never had a sustained reoccurrence of feeling as aroused as this in her life. She sighed and leaned back against Fleur, turning her head to kiss her. She guided the older woman's hands to hold her breasts, and gave a little moan as Fleur's fingers caressed her breasts and nipples, lightly tugging on them.

Despite trying to resist, continuing to be troubled that she should be touching Hermione at all, after the way she had treated her, Fleur soon found she couldn't resist at all. The brunette felt devine in her arms and she would never grow tired of playing with the girl's breasts.

 _Oh not again!_ thought Hermione, amused, as her groin ached beyond a comfortable flutter. She didn't even try to fight it, and guided one of Fleur's hands down under the water, between her legs, and continued to cover the hand with her own as Fleur explored the wet soapy folds of her sex. When strong fingers circled and rubbed at her clit, Hermione had to close her eyes and give in to it.

"It feels sooo good," panted Hermione.

For a time, Fleur kissed and suckled at Hermione's neck and as one hand held and caressed a breast, the other hand worked between the younger woman's legs. "You feel good. Are you going to come? That's it, come for me, my darling."

Hermione was pushed over the edge with those words and her bucking hips caused a little bit of a splash in the bath, which made them both laugh. In very few minutes, Hermione got up and turned, to sit nearly halfway along the bathtub, and beckoned for Fleur to move forwards and, with very little instruction, she sat on Hermione's lap, wrapping her legs around behind Hermione's back.

With Fleur's breasts not far from her eyeline, Hermione leaned forward and took a nipple into her mouth, as her hand worshipped the other breast. Fleur moaned and took several sharp breaths every time Hermione sucked a little harder, or tugged, on a nipple. After a short time, the blonde woman raised Hermione's head and kissed her, deeply, their tongues dancing together. Hermione enjoyed capturing Fleur's moans as she slid a hand between them and caressed the woman's nether lips.

The women continued to kiss, breaking off only occasionally to catch their breath, as Hermione set a steady rhythm with her fingers, her other arm wrapped around Fleur, holding her. She entered her lover and soon Fleur was riding her hand, and breaking off from another deep kiss to utter Hermione's name, as her climax washed over her; with her whole body flinching and twitching.

The two women just held each other for a little while, and then using a quick warming spell on the bath water, they washed each other's hair, and bodies, both becoming increasingly tired. A short time later they were in bed, Hermione lying her head on Fleur's shoulder, close up beside her, and unable to resist tracing her finger along the older woman's jawline, and down her neck to her chest. Although both of them had stirrings of wanting to make love again, their bodies let them fall into sleep.

The following two days seemed to be spent mostly in bed sleeping, or pleasuring each other. Even when they went downstairs for a time, they ended up having sex on the sofa, before moving back upstairs again. Both of them were still getting easily tired, and Fleur occasionally held a hand to her chest, as she continued to feel an ache there. She had wanted to hide it from Hermione as much as she could, but the ache always caught her by surprise and putting a hand to her chest was a natural reaction she couldn't modify. She described it as similar to having a stitch when running; but neither of them could stop the urge, and need, to be physically close with the other.

XXXXXXXXXX

On the fourth day at the cottage, Hermione awoke that morning and didn't feel that, desperate longing feeling; the feeling that had surprised, shocked and baffled her, never having considered herself as being the sort of person to have highly sexual needs. As she lay close to Fleur, and watched the dust motes dance in the sunlight from the window, she thought. It then occurred to her that she hadn't _thought_ about anything much since the morning when she and Fleur had found each other again. They hadn't really talked much at all, and as she thought on it now, she realized that there were so many things she wanted resolved. Even though she was joined to Fleur by an incredibly strong bond, and didn't doubt her acceptance of that, she didn't want them to assume that any earlier issue was just forgotten. Hermione didn't want to stir up trouble or irritations, but she wanted to wipe the slate clean.

Fleur woke up and as she opened her eyes, she almost felt like she hadn't been asleep at all. She also didn't feel that immediate physical need, as she had done the past few days; she felt comfortable and fairly relaxed. However, if Hermione still needed her, she would happily oblige, because it seemed to be affecting the brunette much more. Fleur assumed the reason for that might be because she had always lived with the passion of the veela within her, whereas Hermione had literally been injected with it, and then tied to it.

"Morning," said Hermione, as she realized her lover was awake, now.

"Morning," said Fleur, unable to stifle a yawn.

"Someone's still tired?"

"Yes, you've tired me out," said Fleur, grinning.

"Fleur...I...I feel different today, not quite so...so..."

"Horny?"

Hermione giggled. "Yes. For want of a better word! I feel more rational...that's...well, that's not to say I don't want you, I'm just...well..."

"I know," replied Fleur, as she placed a kiss on Hermione's forehead. "I know what you're trying to say. I don't feel quite so urgent about it today, either. I think the side effects of the ritual are wearing off."

"Just as well," said Hermione, before adding, in a slightly embarrassed voice, "I'm beginning to get a bit...tender, now, if you know what I mean?!"

"I know. Me too."

"These last few days have been amazing," said Hermione, as she lay her head on Fleur's chest, and wrapped an arm around her waist. "I've never felt anything like it. It's been so special. _Crazy_ , but incredibly special."

"Those few years ago, when I first saw you in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, I never ever dreamed that this would happen," said Fleur. "When I realized what you were for me, and then how you hated me, I thought it would never happen, anywhere, except in my dreams. I'm not entirely sure how we'll explain it to others."

"I can't think about that, now," said Hermione, knowing that to think about Harry, Ron and the Weasleys, and how to explain what had happened, would make her feel ill. However, it did raise a question on something else, which she had been thinking about when she woke up. "Fleur, can I talk to you?"

"Of course you can. You know you can."

"It's about what happened after I left Shell Cottage," said Hermione tentatively. "Only, not about the things I did at Gringotts, or the battle, but what happened between us." She moved back from Fleur and sat up in bed.

The tone Hermione was using was very serious and Fleur immediately moved to sit up, so she could look at her partner when she spoke. "Okay."

"I don't want to upset you, or me, or make anything difficult. In fact, I want to talk about it to stop it ever being a problem in the future."

It hit Fleur what it might be and she felt fairly calm about it. _She loves me, she's bonded with me,_ she thought, as she nodded her consent. _I can hear anything she has to say._

"It's about Ron."

"I thought it might be," said Fleur, aware that she was taking a steadying breath, from habit more than need.

Hermione held Fleur's hand as she told her, in detail, about the events in the Chamber of Secrets and how she had felt as Ron had kissed her; the confusion, surprise, relief, satisfaction, guilt and other conflicting emotions, all linked only to her thoughts of Fleur.

"Yes, there was a part of me that kissed Ron back," said Hermione, nervously, hoping with all her heart that Fleur wouldn't get upset. "I'd been wanting the fool to ask me out, or show me some kind of definitive care for years, beyond a sister and brother type of thing. For one tiny moment I felt triumphant, but straight after that, it felt wrong. All I could think of was you, and it was _you_ I wanted to kiss, not him. I had planned to tell you all about it, as soon as we got a chance for some privacy, because after everything, I wanted you to know what had happened, you deserved to know everything. But it all went wrong, and you got ill and I never had the chance to explain myself. And in the end, you got to hear about it in a totally clumsy way. I had no opportunity to warn you, or explain it to you."

"You are now."

"Yes," answered Hermione. "And I'm not doing it to make me feel better for getting some guilty secret off my chest. I'm telling you the truth, because it needs to be told. The truth as far as I'm concerned, anyway. I've no idea what Ron thinks about it, but as I told you that day, when you found that letter, I love you, Fleur. I would never have given up on you, however long it took, and I would never have given up on you to go to Ron, because I wanted you. Since we made love at Shell Cottage, Ron has never been in the equation, not ever a rival for my affections, beyond being a friend I care about. And, although I know you weren't yourself, and your mind and body were unwell and everything, I want to say sorry. Fleur. I'm sorry that I ever gave you cause to doubt me. I'm sorry I didn't stay with you at Shell Cottage, after everything you did for me. I'm sorry I put you through hell...I'm...you nearly died because of me and I'm sorry I..."

Fleur let out a sob and wrapped her arms around Hermione. "Don't...say...that," she said as she cried; it was a moment or two before she could speak again. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn't know. Even _I_ didn't know what was happening to me. It's no one's fault. Before I became ill, I knew deep down you wouldn't betray me or...or reject me. There's no way you could have stayed with me. You were needed by Harry, and in the end, by the magical world. We're only here now through what you all did. You have nothing to be sorry for."

Hermione was crying too, as she held onto Fleur. "I know, but I wanted to say it. I don't want there to be any secrets. And with you having to hear about things at your most vulnerable moment, I wanted to tell you what actually happened and what it meant."

"It's me who should be saying sorry," said Fleur, sniffling. "I shouldn't have allowed myself to become so close to you, when you came to Shell Cottage for help. I should have kept back as a friend. And I never should have hurt you. I'm so ashamed of how I've treated you. I'm ashamed of how I've hurt you, that I even _wanted_ to hurt you. I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm so sorry."

They held each other for a time, until Hermione pressed some soft kisses to the shoulder she was resting her chin on, and kissed a short trail to Fleur's lips.

"I forgive you," said Hermione, as she looked into Fleur's eyes, unable to resist giving a crooked smile.

Unable to stop a soft chuckle, Fleur wiped her eyes and replied, "You forgive me, _again_?"

"Yes. I forgive you," said Hermione. "I don't forgive you for not keeping me as just a friend at Shell Cottage, though."

"Oh," said Fleur, looking down. "It was too soon, it was badly timed and only added to your stress, and it wasn't..."

Hermione put her hand under Fleur's chin and raised her gaze back to her. "I don't forgive you for that, because it was the best thing to ever happen to me. You healed me in so many ways. When I realized, and remembered, what had happened to me, all I could think about was what had happened to the Longbottoms, and it felt like something inside of me was dying: 'hope' most of all, and not seeing how I could ever go on, not just with Harry's journey but perhaps even with my own. I'm uncomfortable to dwell on it, but what we shared was incredible, it gave me back my life, and not for one moment did I regret it. I thought when I first saw you again at Hogwarts, that you were having second thoughts, because I didn't know you were ill then, but what happened at Shell Cottage was meant to happen and I thank you for it."

The two women kissed, then Hermione broke off to say, "Will you forgive me, now?"

"What?"

"Please, Fleur. Forgive me for upsetting you, for ever letting you doubt me."

"Hermione, there's nothing to forgive. I'm not going to forgive you for making me upset enough to hurt you. That's so wrong."

Cupping the Frenchwoman's cheek, Hermione almost whispered, "Please forgive me, Fleur. We can wipe the slate clean and forget about it, then."

"I can't forget about the bruises I can see on your back and legs!"

"Then please, forgive yourself, because _I_ forgive you."

After almost attempting to debate the point further, Fleur nodded her head. She understood what Hermione was trying to do for them both and their relationship. "Despite not agreeing that there's anything to answer for, I forgive you, Hermione."

The two women hugged each other tightly, Fleur revelling in the feel of the younger woman against her. She kissed the girl's neck and whispered, "I love you, my darling."

Hermione felt a shiver go through her. "Hmm."

"Is something wrong?"

"No," said Hermione, nuzzling Fleur's neck. "I've never had the chance to tell you, when you call me 'darling', it does weird things to me. Right from the first time you said it." She gave a little bashful laugh.

"Really?" asked an amused Fleur, as she kissed and briefly sucked Hermione's earlobe.

"Hmm...which is...silly...words doing, _that_!?"

"What kind of weird things?" whispered Fleur, pressing a couple of kisses to Hermione's cheek, before sitting back to look at her.

"Like...I don't know," said a flustered Hermione. "It's as if you're...like...you've put your hand into my chest and have stroked my heart...then maybe tickled my spinal cord at the same time."

Fleur laughed. "My words seem to be very powerful and extremely clever."

"Like the person saying them. And I love that person with all my heart," said Hermione, as she wrapped her arms around Fleur and kissed her tenderly on the lips, before holding her and whispering, "My Fleur-de-lis."

As Hermione had hoped, it was Fleur's turn to experience a shiver, and she felt pleased that she also had that power to stir someone with just words. As they held each other, Fleur traced patterns on Hermione's bare back with her fingers, as the brunette pressed a kiss or two to the Frenchwoman's neck and shoulder.

A few moments passed with the women being close to each other, enjoying being in the other's arms and tamely intimate. As expected, however, they both began to feel the stirrings of desire for each other. As it became obvious where their actions were leading, as Fleur was giving attention to Hermione's breasts, with kisses and loving touches, Hermione pulled her up to kiss her again.

"Are you sure you feel okay for this?" asked the younger woman. "I know you must be tired...I know..."

Fleur silenced Hermione with a brief kiss. "Yes, are you okay?" Before waiting for an answer, she added, "My darling?"

Hermione grinned and kissed Fleur, thoroughly but gently, with no urgency and nothing but tenderness and love. Both women knew they were almost sore from the recent days of nearly frantic love-making, but this intimacy that day felt different. Nothing was frantic, it was an incredibly slow and calming experience between them. It began to feel like they were making love for the first time, without the nervousness and insecurities.

"If anywhere hurts," said Fleur. "Tell me, and I can work round it."

Nowhere did hurt, though.

XXXXXXXXXX

In many ways the day started perfectly for them both, and it truly felt like a new start. Hermione was slowly getting used to being 'aware' of Fleur, even when they weren't in the same room. It was like she would know, exactly, in which direction Fleur was from her at any time; an ability to tune-in to where the woman was. She had a feeling of security, even though both of their lives were far from settled, or secure in any sense. The bond had made them both feel more relaxed and content; Fleur supposed it was because the veela part of her had accepted being joined completely, and saw no reason to feel agitated about either attaining, or fretting over, the love between herself and Hermione.

That afternoon, they sat on a bench outside the cottage; both would have admitted to feeling tired, and almost grateful that they no longer had a fiery sexual need for each other, as in previous days. Fleur was happy to sit and watch the wildlife, as Hermione leaned up against her, as she wrote a letter to Harry. She wasn't writing much, and stopped after scribbling one sentence, eventually giving a tired utterance, not knowing what she wanted to write, or _could_ write.

"I'm guessing all those little noises are writer's block?" asked Fleur.

"Yes," admitted Hermione. "I want to write to Harry, but what do I tell him? I can't say much...I'm...I'm not ready for all of that yet."

"You could truthfully say you've been busy caring for me, and then learning some new things from my grandmother, who is a _very_ demanding teacher," offered Fleur, grinning.

"Your grandmother couldn't be sweeter!"

"Harry doesn't know that, does he? And you _have_ been learning a lot of things from her. Before we got back together she was telling me how impressed she was with the speed you learned new ingredients and learned the methods in her work."

"Maybe I could write something like that," said Hermione, thoughtfully, with her pen still poised over the paper. "He'll know there's something else, though."

"Perhaps, he might think there's something else, but he won't know and there's no way he can know from elsewhere. I know Bill would never say anything. Speaking of which, I really ought to write him a line or..."

Fleur stopped as Hermione proffered her a piece of writing paper and a pen. She laughed, and then set about writing a few lines, telling Bill very briefly that she was much better and recovering well. She wasn't sure whether to mention the fact that she and Hermione were bonded and joined, in the most complete way a veela can be, but she decided to tell him the truth, just not say lots about it, only that she didn't want other people to know yet, and could trust him not to talk about their business. Surprisingly, she was finished with her letter in minutes.

As much as Hermione enjoyed using a quill and parchment, she was happy to use ordinary letter paper and a ballpoint pen. After a few chatty lines for Harry, which seemed as though she was explaining her time in France, while actually not saying much at all, she folded it up and put the letter into an envelope. She then wrote a similarly chatty, but vague, letter to Ginny and placed it in the same envelope. She didn't write to Ron, and only said 'hi' to him in Harry's letter; something in her couldn't face writing to him yet.

"How will we send these? We don't have an owl here, do we?" asked Hermione, as she rested her tired head on Fleur's shoulder, the envelope in her hand.

"No," said Fleur. "I'll call Grandma, perhaps we can go and visit her and use an owl from there. I can let her know I'm writing to Bill that way too."

"Would that mean moving?"

"Yes, but I'll be right back," said Fleur with a grin, as Hermione reluctantly moved her head.

A few minutes later Fleur returned. "She'd love to see us...of course."

"Everything okay with her?" asked Hermione.

"Yes. I think she's missing us both, but she was relieved I called her," explained Fleur. "She was worried about you, after the bond was completed, but kept her distance to give us the space we needed. She was worried about us both. I think she was convinced something was wrong just now, so it was a while before she accepted that we were both fine,and happy and were just needing to send some letters."

"She's a lovely woman," said Hermione, smiling. "You're very lucky to have her."

"I've never asked before, but...did you ever know your grandparents?" asked Fleur. "I'm assuming they're not around any more because you've never mentioned them, or needed to protect them."

"My Mum's parents had both died before I was born. She was an only child and they were quite old when they had her. I don't remember my Dad's father; he died when I was about three. I only remember my Gran, but she died when I was nine," said Hermione, in a very quiet voice.

"I'm sorry. I hope I haven't made you really sad now, I only wondered."

"It can't be changed," said Hermione. "I would have loved to have known them properly...but, I suppose that would only have been more people I would have had to protect in some extreme way."

Fleur grasped Hermione's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Hopefully one day soon, we'll find your parents. I truly hope for it. I would like to meet them. I can almost guarantee they will not be angry with you, or not for long. You saved their lives."

Hermione just nodded, and moved on, not feeling able to tackle another difficult subject yet. "What is your grandmother's full name? When I first met her she told me to call her Aimée, as it was too complicated or would take too long to tell me her full name. When did your grandfather die? That's if he did, and they aren't just separated?"

"She doesn't like to talk about it," replied Fleur. "She wasn't married to my Grandfather for many years when he was killed in World War Two, working with the French Resistance. He insisted Grandma stayed in England where she was working on things with the British Government and where my mother - only a small child at the time - was living with her. She had offered her 'skills' to the British and worked on code breaking. He could have gone to England on many opportunities, to be with her, but he wanted to do something for our country and wouldn't leave. Eventually the Germans caught up with him, or someone talked, and he was shot by firing squad. He had no magic; a little veela blood from a great grandmother, but he and my Grandma were very much in love. She never looked for anyone else after that, and instead came back to the veela community."

"I'm so sorry," said Hermione, sadly. "I won't ask her about it. But is her full name still his?"

"She doesn't really have a last name, as such. Her full name is Aimée, Comtesse de Valois, Condesa de Aragón."

Taking a moment to absorb the names, Hermione suddenly realized that there were titles there. "Countess? In France _and_ Spain?"

"Yes," replied Fleur with a smile. "My Grandfather had very old ancestry. I'm not entirely sure if he was entitled to those names or not, but my Grandma hates to use them, and particularly hates the Valois name. She never wanted to feel entitled to anything, or made to feel that she was worth more than someone else with no titles, which probably came from her experiences in the war. So, her full name is rarely spoken. Apparently, my Grandfather rarely used his full name either. I think they both used the last name Dubois during the war, to keep things ordinary and simple. "

"You're related to royalty or aristocracy of some sort with those names, then?"

"Whatever royalty was left in France after the last century," said Fleur. "I think it's a long ago lost line, and I have very little knowledge of Spanish royalty at all. I...I don't think I can pass any title on to you..."

"Good grief! I wouldn't want any!" said Hermione. "Don't worry about that. I'm happy to be...to be your partner and lover."

Fleur put her arm around Hermione and leaned in and kissed her cheek. They had a few minutes silence, in thought, before Hermione spoke again.

"Did you grandparents go through a veela bonding ritual? Or is it only women who do this?"

"Yes, they were bonded. Their love was deep, and my Grandfather has a little veela blood so it was natural they wanted to do that," answered Fleur, then she shook her head. "I can't imagine what my Grandma went through when they were apart and when he died. It might be another reason she doesn't talk about it much."

"It might also be why she was so worried about us," suggested Hermione. "Were you ever offered the ritual with Bill?"

"No," said Fleur. "That is to say, I _knew_ it wasn't completely right for us to do."

"Because of me?"

"Yes, because of you," said Fleur. "Bill doesn't really know about that. It is mostly done with female partners, so I didn't have anything to explain."

The couple were quiet again for a few moments.

"It's nice that everyone seems to be connected by phones, even if they are only localized to here. But everyone can be in touch in seconds, so simply. I wish the British magical world would think about that for the future," said Hermione.

"If we talk to Kingsley about it enough, perhaps he'll listen."

"That's a good idea," said Hermione, thoughtfully. "If he'll ever have time for us, these days."

"I worked with him for months!" said Fleur, mildly affronted. "If he doesn't have time for former allies and friends then he's not the Minister we all thought he'd be."

"It's not that. I wondered if he'd be too busy for trivial issues."

"Opening lines of communication could be a vital thing in the future," said Fleur. "It might not be trivial at all."

"Well, that's another thing for when we go back," Hermione concluded, before adding, "If we ever go back. Or _can_ go back?"

"I admit, Hermione, I'm in no hurry to go back to England yet. Despite everything, life seems so simple here, so peaceful. I'm with the true love of my life, in a beautiful cottage in a stunningly beautiful place. I'd happily never leave."

Hermione pressed a kiss to Fleur's cheek this time. "I love being here with you, too."

"We don't have to think about it, now. We have a couple more weeks to enjoy it, before we need to think of anything else."

"So when are we visiting your grandmother?"

"She said tomorrow would be best, as she has a couple of her coven visiting today and doesn't want us having to deal with them yet. She said as long as we're together, there's no reason why we can't visit her." Fleur then grinned. "At least we're not likely to get so horny we need to leave in a hurry, now."

"I don't know," said Hermione, wistfully and playfully. "I'm sure you could get me pretty horny by not doing much."

"Of course I can!" said Fleur, laughing at her own lack of modesty. "I mean, that we haven't got that bond heating us up, anymore."

"Yes, it has been a rather interesting few days," said Hermione, with a laugh. She went quiet for a moment, thinking on something else. "I've never really thought...that's a long way for an owl to travel, to take our letters. Do they take lots of stops or something? I never thought to ask about the papers being delivered at your grandmother's, as I was so involved with what was happening with you."

"Owls are even more amazing creatures in the international magical world," explained Fleur. "I was told that they can catch magical jet streams and get help towards the destination they need. So it's much less tiring for them. I expect your letter will reach Harry by tomorrow evening."

"That definitely beats Royal Mail!" said Hermione with a laugh. "My Mum once sent a Christmas card to a friend who lived ten miles away, and it took eight days to arrive! She could have walked to her friend's house and back faster...she could have _crawled_ there and back faster!"

XXXXXXXXXX

They did indeed visit Fleur's grandmother, Aimée, the following day and the older veela was ecstatic to see them, after she made sure that neither of them felt ill or had any strange reactions. Hermione and Fleur enjoyed visiting her very much and when they mentioned that one or two items were getting low in their kitchen stocks, Aimée immediately gave them two large boxes of supplies to Apparate back to the cottage.

Fleur and Hermione spent most of the day with Aimée, enjoying a lunch with her. When they were ready to leave, and hugged and thanked her, Fleur handed over her letter to be sent to Bill and Hermione's letters for Harry and Ginny.

"I nearly forgot, I have some letters for you, Hermione," said Aimée, as she handed over three envelopes.

Hermione quickly looked at the handwriting. "Two from Harry and one from Ginny. I wrote to them both today, so hopefully they won't write again so soon."

"Why didn't they reach us at the cottage?" asked Fleur.

"Because the cottage is cloaked," replied Aimée. "It isn't an address that can just be found by searching for the occupants. Therefore letters arrive at the last open place you were sensed at, which was here. I would have to give permission to allow anyone, other than me or Stefanie, to visit you there too."

"That's fascinating!" said Hermione.

"Yes, well, people in that cottage don't need to be disturbed and shouldn't be," said Aimée, seriously.

"We're enjoying our stay there, immensely," said Hermione, failing to stop a slight blush from reaching her cheeks.

"I'm glad, my dear. You both deserve some time to yourselves, and need it after your bond. I hope you enjoy the next couple of weeks."

"I'm sure we will," said Fleur, with a beaming smile.

As they left, through the stubborn kitchen door, Aimée told them that she would Apparate some more supplies for their cottage, in a few days time.

Arriving back at the cottage, laden with the two boxes of items they had already been given, they set about putting things in cupboards, the slow muggle way. As Fleur was putting a packet of pasta on a shelf she stopped, nearly dropped the packet and grimaced.

Hermione had seen it and went to her. "Are you in pain again? Is it your chest?"

"Yes. But I'm fine...really I am," said Fleur, as she flexed her arm a little, feeling the tugging soreness in her chest from the movement. "I think it's when I get a bit tired, it catches me unawares. Hopefully it will soon heal and pass. And if it doesn't, well, I'll learn to live with it."

Not saying another word, Hermione flicked her wand a few times and had the items on the shelves and in the cupboards, in a matter of seconds. She then wrapped her arms around Fleur and held her in a gentle embrace. "I'm tired too," she said. "Let's go and lie down...and I _mean_ lie down and rest."

Fleur moved back and gave an initial reply which was something between a sigh and a scoffed laugh. "It's very hard to lie down next to you and just rest!"

"Yes...well...we have plenty of time for more of that, later," said Hermione, blushing beautifully.

"And I look forward to every moment of it," said Fleur. She laughed at the expression Hermione was giving her, then felt her chest ache again.

"Come on, you," said Hermione, as she Apparated them both to the bedroom upstairs in a split second, not bothering to take the slightly longer route of actually walking there.

Hermione got on to the bed and patted the place next to her, which Fleur went to. They both lay down and Hermione got hold of Fleur's hand. For a moment, neither said anything and both stared vacantly at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of birds outside.

"Have you tried your relaxation thing lately?" asked Hermione.

"No," replied Fleur. "The last time I tried it everything went crazy. I haven't tried to go back, and not since my grandmother said it wasn't just a relaxation technique.

"I've been thinking, about that place," said Hermione. "Not in the bigger sense of why you were seeing it and how I can too, but about how we used it. I have this strong sense that we weren't only imagining, or visiting, that place, but that we were actually meeting there. That some part of us was actually there."

"I've considered it myself," replied Fleur. "It felt so real. _You_ felt so real. And after you had left Shell Cottage, you were distracted there, and left me."

Rolling on to her side, towards Fleur, Hermione propped herself up on her elbow and began to describe how she had visited the building, and found Fleur there, to try and calm herself when she was clinging on to the back of the dragon, and that she had felt she had nearly been ripped out of that place, and back to reality, when Harry had said they should jump off. She recalled her words and what she had done.

"So it _was_ real?!" said Fleur, recognizing the encounter, almost word for word and almost the exact actions. She explained to Hermione how their meetings there had mirrored each other, and it left both of them a little astonished and bemused.

"It's comforting and very strange," said Hermione. "Especially as that doesn't seem to be what that place was all about."

"Hopefully, soon, my Grandmother will explain everything," said Fleur. "A part of me is nervous about what it means and why she taught it to me at all."

"It's intriguing," said Hermione. "I understand feeling nervous. If it was some kind of astral projection or something, then it might not have been even safe for us to be there like that?! It could have made us vulnerable."

"I honestly thought it was something just for relaxing a person," said Fleur, seriously. "I never would have knowingly put you in danger."

Hermione cuddled up to Fleur and wrapped an arm around her waist. "We weren't to know, so please don't worry yourself about it. And it did help me so much at Shell Cottage. It can't be all bad. It might be something less creepy entirely, and is actually entry into some secret veela party house!"

Fleur chuckled at that and kissed the top of Hermione's head, as she held her, and they both drifted off into a restful doze.


	16. A Vital Point

**A/N: I like to think of this as 'phase two' of the story. This is actually the chapter that I first thought about before writing the previous 15. Sounds crazy, but it's true. The inspiration all came from that French movie...**

 **Oh, and as you may have noticed, this is something of a 'rollercoaster' story. :)**

16: A Vital Point

The following week the women spent lazily enjoying the cottage and each other's company, with another visit or two to Aimée for morning coffee, and one day meeting Stefanie and Sophie there and enjoying their company a great deal. Both Stefanie and Sophie had been quite suggestive about things, to make a little fun, but it was all taken in good humour and both Hermione and Fleur felt close enough to the women, due to all they had been through, to be amused by the innuendoes, rather than be embarrassed.

It was like life had gone into slow motion and both women were not in any rush for that to change. They still found their three weeks passing too quickly and they had relished their time at the cottage so much, that they hadn't even visited Fleur's grandmother for a few days. It was then, when they were on the phone with Aimée, that the older veela suggested they should have a full month together if they wanted to, especially as Fleur had been so ill previously and continued to get tired easily. The two women didn't disagree and were very grateful for the offer. After the hectic last days in Britain, fighting both a war and then for Fleur's health, it felt wonderful to have no pressing issues, and no one expecting them to have answers or plans to get through the next day. There were still some very obvious issues about their new status having to be revealed, eventually, to the Weasley family and their friends, but for now nothing was urgent.

Life was so relaxing that the times they did visit Aimée, they often walked instead of Apparating; discovering that the cottage was beyond the woodland that they could see from Aimée's house. Taking a stroll through the trees on a small path, and then through the large field to the house, with wildlife all around them, was a beautiful walk through nature.

Hermione's time with Fleur was something she would never be able to describe completely, because words were not adequate for the task. When they made love, which was nearly every day so far, she felt so different from the young girl she had been at Shell Cottage and even from how she had been towards the end of the battle at Hogwarts; Fleur made her feel like a grown woman, and made her feel more confident about herself. She didn't know why, but she had always assumed that being a lesbian somehow made a woman less womanly, but she now knew that to be an utterly false assumption. When Fleur touched her, or even just _looked_ at her, Hermione felt inches taller, more voluptuous than she actually was and more feminine than she had ever felt before. To make love with Fleur, to touch her, and to be allowed to share her most vulnerable intimate moments, as their passion soared, was a gift and experience that no money or spell could buy or acquire. And Fleur felt exactly the same about Hermione.

The morning on the day after their three-week anniversary, they were lying in each other's arms, having made love when they had first awoken, and were enjoying the closeness and the peace within that closeness, when they heard a noise, like something had hit a wall or door.

"What was that?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know," replied a sleepy Fleur. "Perhaps a bird hit a window downstairs, or something."

As Hermione relaxed and rested her head back on Fleur's chest, they heard the noise again. "Is that someone at the door?"

"I'd better have a..." Fleur didn't finish her sentence, as the more distinctive sound of knocking sounded again.

"Who would be knocking on the door?" wondered Hermione. "I thought people weren't supposed to come here, while we were here? If it was Aimée or Stefanie they'd phone first, wouldn't they?"

Fleur moved off the bed, quickly put on a T-Shirt and opened the window; leaning out she shouted down to a figure below, firstly in English, then in French, "Who is it?"

A figure took a step back and looked up to the open window. "Is Hermione here?"

"Harry?!" exclaimed Fleur. "What are you doing here?"

"Harry?!" whispered a shocked Hermione. "How? _Why_?"

"I need to see her, urgently," said Harry. "Your grandmother told me she was here with you?! Is she here?"

"Yes, give us a few minutes and we'll be down," said Fleur.

"Bugger!" said Hermione. "What the hell does he want?" She scrabbled around for some clean underwear and clothes, before making a quick trip to the bathroom to magically clean her teeth and make herself presentable as fast as possible.

"I guess we'll find out," said Fleur, as she too got properly dressed. "I don't think there was any way I could have sent him away."

"If Aimée told him where I was, it has to be something urgent...and for him to even find your grandmother's place too?!" Hermione was considering all kinds of bad news, and wondering if something had happened to one of the Weasley family. _Or maybe I'm in trouble for something and Harry's come to warn me?!_ She thought, flustered.

"It must be."

The two women made their way downstairs and Fleur set to making some coffee while Hermione went to unlock and open the door. When she pulled the door open, and Harry walked towards her, she immediately noticed how tired he looked.

"Hermione, finally!" he said, as he hugged her.

"Well, come in," said Hermione, standing back to look at him again. "What's wrong? has something happened?"

Harry didn't immediately answer, as they walked through to the kitchen; Harry greeted Fleur and then sat down, with Fleur placing mugs of coffee on the table for them all. Fleur noticed how tired Harry looked too, and agitated, and she didn't think it was just because he had been made to wait before they opened the door.

"Did you get my letters?" Harry asked.

"Yes," answered Hermione.

"And you didn't think anything was odd about what I told you?" Harry asked.

"Odd?"

Hermione thought about the letters she had received from her friend, and it dawned on her that she had only read the letter that had arrived on the day she and Fleur had got back together, and then she had not read it very thoroughly. The ones Aimée had given her over a week ago, she hadn't even opened, being distracted by the domestic bliss of living with, and loving, Fleur. And then she remembered Aimée had mentioned she had another letter for her, when they had spoken on the phone regarding some items for their extended stay; but she hadn't even collected that one yet.

"About the dreams?" Harry continued. When Harry saw how mystified Hermione looked he said, "You didn't read my letters properly, did you?"

"I..." Hermione vaguely remembered something about a dream in the only letter she had read, but she retained no details about it; now she was more concerned with trying to think of an excuse that didn't involve Fleur, and then decided that lying in this instance was as bad as saying the dog had eaten her homework. "I'm sorry, Harry, I haven't read your letters."

"But you received them?"

"I have three."

"Three? I've sent you six! Two in the last week!"

"We haven't visited my Grandma for a few days," said Fleur. "She probably still has them."

"Why don't they come here?" asked a confused Harry. "Why are you here, anyway?"

Taking an unavoidable breath Hermione replied, "The cottage is cloaked, or so we've been told, so only the veelas know about it."

"Is Fleur in danger?"

For an incredibly weird moment Fleur had felt like laughing, while she thought: _In danger? Only from Hermione's tongue, lips and fingers._ She stopped herself and managed to keep her face neutral too.

"No, it's a retreat, for me to...to recover," said Fleur, as vaguely as possible.

"The issue here isn't Fleur," said Hermione. "What are you doing here, Harry? And what was in your letters that you need to talk to me about? Is everyone okay back in Britain? The Weasleys? Are...?"

"I've been dreaming," said Harry, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing. "Similar to how I used to...you know...the connection dreams."

"But 'He's' dead!" said Hermione abruptly. "Completely and utterly dead."

"I know that, and anyone there at Hogwarts saw it too," said Harry. "But I've been having similar dreams. Not as strong, but very similar in nature."

"Harry," interjected Fleur. "If You Know Who has no physical form, and you no longer have a piece of his soul inside you, then what are you seeing?"

"Images, flashes of things, just like some of his thoughts towards the end," explained a tired Harry. "When he realized what we were doing, gradually destroying his horcruxes, his thoughts were very jumpy and I used to get a mangle of images and feelings."

"So what are you saying?" asked Hermione, frowning. "Or what do you _think_ you're saying?"

"A few days after the battle, when I got the dreams again, I thought about everything, wrote down what we did and everything I could remember from my time with Dumbledore and something occurred to me that might be the cause."

"You can't think you still have a piece of that bastard within you, surely?" offered Hermione. "The Dumbledore you spoke to said that was gone."

"No, he's not within me," said Harry, then gave a faint groan. "But the connection wasn't severed entirely, because a part of him is still out there."

"What?!" said Hermione, partly surprised and partly already dreading the implications it might mean.

"He was obsessed with the number seven," explained Harry, his voice steady, but quiet.

"Yes, you said something about that from one of the sessions with Dumbledore," replied Hermione. "And we dealt with all seven horcruxes."

Harry slowly shook his head.

"We blooming well did!" said Hermione, adamantly. "There was the diary, which you destroyed, before any of us knew what it was; the stone within the ring, which Dumbledore dealt with; the locket, the cup, the diadem, the snake and you. That's all seven and all were destroyed. We all saw six of them destroyed in one way or another and you were definitely dealt with too."

Harry shook his head again, sadly. "We overlooked a vital point."

"Which was?" asked an impatient Hermione.

"In Dumbledore's words, in what he said to me after I was briefly dead and what he was telling Snape, in those memories in the pensieve: I was the horcrux that Voldemort never intended to make. He never even knew he'd made me into a horcrux until after he had killed me and felt it. Which means..."

"You weren't the seventh," said Hermione, putting a hand to her forehead, and giving a little groan. "The seventh is still out there."

"Yes," Harry said with a nod. "And that means, there's a chance it could be used. It might be a slim chance, with the worst Death Eaters long gone and few willing to take a risk again, but it's still a chance. Not only that, I want these dreams gone for good too. I want to be rid of it all."

All three in the kitchen took sips from their coffee.

"So you see, I need your help again, Hermione," said Harry. "If you can?"

"Do you know what it is, or where it is?" asked Fleur, despite her calmness since the bond with Hermione, she felt a little agitated herself now.

"I think it's another round, diadem type thing, from the flashes I've seen. A circlet of something or other, and I'm pretty sure it's in France...which is another reason I needed to find you," said Harry. "You've been here a lot, I haven't."

"Will we have to wander around, aimlessly again, and hope we stumble across it?" asked a doubtful Hermione. "How do you know it's in France?"

"I did some work with Kinglsey Shacklebolt. He's the only one I could trust with the information. I didn't want to involve the Weasleys, other than Ron, and put any of them in danger."

"What work did you do, to narrow it down?" asked Fleur.

"It turns out Kingsley is good with problems of the mind, and has a pensieve, and after a lot of thought I let him view some of my dreams, and we worked on where it might be. We're pretty sure it's a war cemetery, or war monument, and it looked kind of French, going by some of the lettering."

"Well, that _narrows_ it down," said Hermione with a heavy dose of sarcasm. Harry frowned at her, so she explained, "There are lots and lots of war cemeteries. It would take forever to find which one, and it won't be easy poking around in them either, they're all looked after properly and often have guides and wardens looking after them."

"I know, but you've been to some, when you were on holiday with your family a couple of years ago, it might help to narrow it down some more," suggested Harry, not with desperation but with insistence.

Hermione nodded. "I went to a few, but there are so many that I might not have been where we need to go. If only we could take photos from your mind, that would help."

"I can describe and..." Harry reached into his jacket and brought out a notebook. "...and with Ron's help, I sketched what I remember most, the thing that stood out about the place, from the flashes of images."

Harry flicked open the notebook and handed it over to Hermione, who looked at the basic, rather wonky, line drawing of a building, with an arch and side sections.

"Harry, this is a large building...it doesn't look much like a war cemetery?"

"It's the thing that most stuck out in my mind from there, and it seemed imposing," replied Harry. "I don't remember many gravestones, but Kingsley is sure it's a war cemetery."

Fleur looked at the line drawing and thought she recognized the building. "If you're sure that's the building you saw, and it was 'imposing', then I think I know where it is."

Before Fleur said any more, Hermione had suddenly thought the place looked slightly familiar. "All I can think of is the..."

"The Menin Gate," said Fleur. "It's one of the more famous war memorial-cemetery type of places I know, that has a large arched building like that. It's more a memorial than a cemetery, although there is some grass to the sides. I think the cemetery, with war graves, is in a slightly different location from it. And it's in Belgium, not France, in a place called Ieper, more commonly known as Ypres."

"We need to get there and soon," said Harry. "I'll need to go back to England and fetch Ron."

"Why isn't he here with you, now?" asked Hermione, wondering about the absence of the red-haired man for the first time.

"He...err...isn't comfortable around...well, apart from Fleur and Gabrielle, his only other contact with veelas left him very embarrassed and he didn't want to upset you, Hermione, so until we had a plan and got on the move he stayed at home," said Harry.

"Oh," replied Hermione, feeling uncomfortable and not wanting to explore why Ron didn't want to upset her, knowing it was in relation to her being jealous, which would not be an issue at all now.

"Anyway, perhaps we can start looking soon. If we meet up..."

"I can't just up and leave, Harry," said Hermione, her voice a little tight with tension.

"I thought you said Fleur was recovering, you certainly look a lot better than when I last saw you?!" said Harry to the Frenchwoman, although he was very distracted by gaining the information he needed and wanting to get started.

"I _am_ better," said Fleur. "But...we're not sure Hermione can leave."

"What?" Harry frowned, and looked at his friend. "Are _you_ unwell, Hermione?"

"Not exactly," she answered, nearly grimacing; she looked to Fleur for a moment.

"They said three weeks was to be safe, four weeks to be extra safe," said Fleur, equally uncomfortable. "They said two was the usual, so I think it might be okay."

"No," answered Hermione. "I'm not going to risk putting you through that again. Everything has been to the extreme from the start; I won't risk it. I won't risk you, like that. And you're still getting the side effects."

"Then I'll have to go with you," said Fleur. "You might need my help...if Harry is okay with that?"

Harry had been watching and listening to the exchanges between the two women and not understanding a word they had been saying. "Risk?" he said, instead of answering Fleur's question about joining their search. "At risk from whom? Are you in danger from someone?"

For some reason, Hermione laughed; she could feel the uncomfortable tension of that dawning feeling, that they might have to divulge their situation to Harry, a lot sooner than they wanted to, and all she ended up doing was laughing.

"What?" Harry said, feeling irritated.

Fleur looked to Hermione, and put her head on one side, shrugged slightly and conveyed in her body language that there was a way of telling Harry without telling him anything vital. "I'm not in danger from anyone, exactly. Only, Hermione."

Hermione laughed again, knowing that she was probably giving Harry the impression that she was losing her sanity. Somehow, she had immediately understood what Fleur meant, as if the woman had whispered the idea into her ear; she guessed it was the veela bond helping their telepathic understanding, and that only made her want to laugh again. She put a hand to her mouth, and calmed herself, thinking of the words to tell Harry something, without lying, and without telling him everything.

"Harry, Fleur's recovery is linked to my presence. I was with her the whole time, and one of the veelas helped to heal her...and...and part of that involved something...like..."

"It's like an Unbreakable Vow," Fleur continued, as she understood what Hermione was doing, impressed with her stealth, of telling some of the truth but not all of it, and not totally surprised by their understanding of each other. "And in the early stages of it, the person linked to me, has to be around me for two or three weeks. It's why we're here."

"Yes, and it should have been free of disturbance," said Hermione. "You really must have convinced Fleur's grandmother of your need to see me." She hoped this would direct the conversation away from herself and Fleur being linked in any way at all.

"What's the risk?" asked Harry, not quite understanding what he was told.

"If we're separated sooner, Fleur could become ill again," said Hermione, calmly. "We're over the worst of it, but her grandmother thinks she should have another week." Hermione stopped herself from blushing and smiling, as she thought about the 'worst of it' _. Nearly non-stop sex for several days,_ she thought. _Yeah, it was terrible!?_

"Well, if that's the way it has to be done, then it's fine by me," said Harry, nodding to Fleur. "I'm sure an extra set of eyes and a wand will be very handy indeed."

"No one knows about this? About this thing you're planning?" asked Fleur. "Just you and Ron?"

"Yes, and Kingsley, although he doesn't know when I'm setting out to search for it. I said I'd keep him informed, but hopefully the next time I speak to him it will be to say we've found it." Harry stood up. "I'll get back to Ron. Where should we meet?"

"I've been to Ieper once," said Fleur. "Perhaps it might be easier if we met you and Ron in England, and I Side-Along Apparated you from there. It would save time...but...I don't want to see anyone else yet."

Harry agreed. "A low profile would be best, anyway."

"Where can we go that no one will recognize us in the magical world, or think it strange for people to appear out of thin air?" asked Hermione.

"Grimmauld Place," said Harry. "If you go to the doorstep, you can go straight in. I've made it accessible for you, and a few others, a couple of weeks ago, when I gained access to it properly. No one else should be there and we can safely come and go."

"Okay, but we need a couple of days, Harry," said Hermione. "I know you want to get started on this as soon as possible, but we need to clear everything with Fleur's grandmother."

Fleur nodded. "Yes, we need to talk to her. And see if there is anything we might have to prepare for."

Harry had looked ready to protest, but he knew that his friends must have their reasons, and Fleur _had_ been ill, and he certainly didn't understand anything about veelas, and didn't entirely understand what he had been told. "All right. How many days?"

Hermione looked to Fleur questioningly. "Do you think two days would be enough?"

"I don't know," said Fleur. "It depends what my Grandmother says. Let's say two days from now and if we can't we'll send a message."

"Better make it fairly early in the morning, to avoid any chance of stumbling over someone seeing you on the doorstep," said Harry. "So two days from now, just before 8am?"

Fleur shrugged her shoulders as if she didn't mind what time was proposed and Hermione said, "We'll be there...if we can."

"Your beaded bag might be useful," said Harry, as he walked through the cottage with them to leave.

"Yes, I'll bring that along...force of habit now," said Hermione smiling. "Harry, how did you even _find_ Fleur's grandmother?"

"I don't know. I sort of thought really hard about where you might be and kind of went with my instinct," said Harry with a shrug.

"And my Grandmother was helpful, straight away?" asked Fleur.

"Err...not exactly, but when I spoke about horcruxes and Voldemort, she suddenly seemed very interested and didn't hesitate to tell me how to get here."

""We'll hopefully see you in two days," said Hermione.

"Now you have been here, you can Disapparate from here," offered Fleur.

"Okay. See you in two days," said Harry as he left.

Fleur closed the door after seeing Harry leave, and sighed a weary sigh. "So it all starts again?"

"It seems so," said Hermione, feeling just as weary. "We'd better see your grandmother soon."

"I know we should see her, to let her know what we're planning to do, but are you thinking of some other reason we need to talk to her?" asked Fleur.

"There were some things she never told us, that she said she'd explain, and I'm wondering if that moment might be now and might be useful to us."

"Yes, you're right," said Fleur. "I think we should go and see her as soon as we can."

After a quick call to check it was okay to visit, both women were ready to leave and were walking into Aimée's house within seconds, Apparating that morning for quickness. Fleur's grandmother was in her workroom, but walked through when she heard voices.

"I thought I might be seeing you two today, even before you called," said Aimée. "At least, I _hoped_ you would visit, if only to tell me what's going on with Harry Potter and this horcrux business!? I thought that was all over?"

They all sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, as Hermione and Fleur explained Harry's visit and their plans. Nothing seemed to surprise Aimée as she sat listening, asking one or two questions and calmly taking in all the information. She told them that she was going to turn Harry away, but that he had become very agitated, and once he mentioned Voldemort and something about a horcrux, Aimée knew he had to talk to Hermione. When the two younger women had finished their explanations, there was a pause before anyone spoke again.

"Well, I think it's safe for you both to go, or as safe as this type of work ever can be," said Aimée. "I'm also glad you're going together. Not that you need my permission, but I agree with what you plan to do. Fleur will not be in danger from her veela side now, but separation so soon wouldn't be nice for either of you, for purely human feelings."

"I'm not sure I'd want to be away from Fleur for very long yet," Hermione said, with a little smile.

"Of course you don't," agreed Aimée.

The three women sipped at their coffee, but Aimée had sensed there might be more to their visit. "Was there something else?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "There were other things you said you'd explain to Fleur when she was well, and we wondered if now might be a good time?"

"Ahhh, I see," said Aimée, nodding her head. "There are many things I know, which I can pass on to Fleur, but two days wouldn't be long enough."

"Well, couldn't you at least tell us about that relaxation technique you taught me?" asked Fleur. "What was that all about? I'm not sure it was just for relaxing?! But if it was, it might be useful in the days to come, depending what we're doing."

"Yes, I think it's time you were told about that." Aimée leaned back in her chair.

"I'm ready to learn anything you can teach me," said Fleur.

Hermione reached for Fleur's hand and squeezed it. "Me too. If I'm allowed to know these things, I'd like to learn too."

"In the beginning that little scene of the field and the sun, _was_ for relaxing a veela, or anyone with anxiety, or under stress, but there are a few of us able to experience more within that realm. Not all of us, but a few: then, it comes to mean something else."

Fleur and Hermione were already paying rapt attention to Aimée, wondering what was going to be said next. Neither were prepared for the answers.

"A lot of veelas, or those with even a trickle of veela blood, can only use this as a way to relax, like any other human could; just as I taught you when you were a little girl with a feisty temper, Fleur," explained Aimée.

Fleur gave a little laugh. "Yes, well it calmed me down, usually."

"However, there are a few of us who have access to more, and I hoped and hoped you might have that trait in you. And it seems you do, and even more remarkably Hermione was able to venture there too," the older woman continued.

"Is it something like a dreamscape?" asked Hermione, her brow furrowed in thought. "Or like astral projection?"

"In some ways," replied Aimée. "Most people will see the field, perhaps take in the sun, the grasses or flowers, but are usually so relaxed when they sit down, or lie down, in the field, that nothing else happens. But, in a few of us, we can go onward. Did you search for the building, or think of it and create it, Fleur? Or was it just there?"

"I don't know...I..," Fleur said, thinking back to when the building had first come into her world. "I went onward and there was the building. I don't remember thinking of searching for anything, or creating anything, it just happened."

"Do you remember the exact day this happened for the first time?" asked Aimée. "Or what had happened at the time of that discovery?"

"I don't remember exactly," answered Fleur. "It was when Hermione was with me at Shell Cottage, after her ordeal. It happened then, and the next time I used it to calm her to sleep, I described it to her."

"Yes, you did," agreed Hermione. "Except, I could see it already when I was being taken through it. It was like it had always been there and I'd never looked before."

"Exactly!" said Fleur. "It was just there!"

"That makes sense," said Aimée, nodding her head with satisfaction.

"Not to me it doesn't?!" said Fleur. "What is so important about finding an imaginary building?"

"Did the place feel safe?" asked Aimée, ignoring the question for the moment.

"It did to me," said Hermione. "We were both unsure what it was, but it felt familiar and safe. We told each other, that when we were apart, we'd go through this little 'walk' and think of meeting the other in the building. We've since felt that we might really have met each other there, in some way."

"I remember!" said Aimée. She looked at the astounded faces of the younger women. "I was able to talk to Fleur a couple of times in that place, thanks to our coven working with me, to project me there for a few moments."

"I remember you telling me off, and not making a lot of sense," said Fleur, flatly.

"That's because I thought when you had found that place you'd realize the importance and know that the time had come. Also the fact that you were close and having feelings reciprocated by your true lover at the same time. I thought you'd recognize that it was time to talk to me."

"I'm sorry, but I didn't know what I was supposed to be looking for?!" Fleur said, slightly exasperated.

Aimée reached across the table and held her granddaughter's hand. "I know. That was my fault entirely. We all make mistakes, and I can only be thankful that I got to you in time."

"So was the building an indication of...of love?" asked Hermione.

"No," replied Aimée. "Usually it isn't; but the reason for it's appearance at that time, was triggered by your love and the danger you were in."

"What does it mean?" asked Fleur.

"What I'm about to tell you, is strictly veela lore, not commonly known outside of our community, or outside of our race; it wouldn't be believed by many others hearing about it, anyway." Aimée drank the last mouthful of her coffee. "To have access to that building in that realm, in a time of danger and fear, is to give encouragement, strength and safety to the veela seeing it. It is accessing our heritage, or a part of some of our heritage, as not every veela, even with the gifts, will be able to access it if they don't have the right lineage."

"Are you saying it's inherited?" asked Hermione.

"In a way," replied Aimée. "Only a few veelas in my line have not been able to access it."

"My mother wasn't able to, was she?" asked Fleur.

Aimée sighed. "You're correct. Your mother did not ever see it, or _claimed_ she didn't. I often wonder if it is because she stubbornly refused so much of her veela side that she shut off any ability to see it. She's a very strong-willed woman, so perhaps she never felt she needed it. I hoped and hoped you would inherit the ability, and it seems you have, as I always suspected you would."

"So it's a place of safety?" asked Fleur. "To relax a tired or stressed veela mind? Seems a little dramatic only for a bit of relaxation?!"

"There's more, isn't there?" asked Hermione, who had been studying Aimée's expressions.

Aimée nodded again. "It is not just a place of calm and peace, it is the source: the source of our family's and our line's, strength. The place you're seeing is the original little church of Sainte-Catherine-de-Fierbois."

"Fierbois?" questioned Fleur. "I feel I should know it...but I don't know why? And why is that the place in our thoughts?"

"I'm sure you will know why you should know it, when I tell you," said Aimée with a smile. "It is at that church, not far from Chinon, where the woman, known to the world as Joan of Arc, told of a sword to be found there. It was found and taken to her, it was her strength for many a day to follow."

"Joan?" Fleur nearly squeaked. She turned to Hermione, and the younger woman was astonished too. "Was the sword a veela item?"

"We've always assumed it to be so," said Aimée. "Joan possessed some of our blood too, which is why we assume that she knew where it was."

"I don't doubt that Joan of Arc was convincing and persuasive and all that...," began Hermione. "...but I can certainly see how having a bit of veela blood might have helped when dealing with men in the 1400s, and certainly getting a king, dukes, commanders and armies to follow you!"

"She died young, with no children," said Fleur. "How can she be connected to us?"

"Her sister," replied her grandmother. "We are all in possession of some of Joan's blood, from her mother through to her sister. I had always hoped that the heritage would be passed down to you, and it has. And I'm certain that the reason Hermione can also access this, is because of the part of your soul within her."

There was a silence as they all absorbed the information. Hermione's mind was going in all kinds of directions, and she was in slight disbelief that her partner was related to Joan of Arc. In some ways it didn't surprise her, when she thought of the bravery of Fleur and her willingness to help people and fight for what she thought was right. Fleur was in mild shock.

"Remember what Luna said?" Hermione turned to Fleur. "She said her ancestor spent time with some veelas and said a veela would know about things an ancestor had seen or done."

"Luna?" asked Aimée.

"Luna Lovegood, is a friend of ours. She was being held captive at the Malfoys and escaped with us," explained Hermione. "She's very eccentric, but underneath all of that she has some incredible knowledge and theories. Anyway, an ancestor of hers spent some time with the veelas and learned some of your ways."

Fleur frowned again. "So we see this church, because Joan envisaged the place and it was important to her, because her own ancestors knew something about it too, and might have planted the sword there?"

"I believe it could be so," said Aimée. "No one is entirely sure of how or why this happens, but this part of our abilities are due to her lineage. That is to say: Joan and her sister and mother, are the farthest back we can trace our family for sure, it gets a bit more uncertain before that. And the lore has been passed down our family for generations and among the veela community."

"If that was the place of the sword...and being linked to it...and they say Joan wielded the sword...," Hermione said, thinking out loud.

"What about the sword?" asked Fleur.

"Well, is that why the women in your family are good at fencing?"

"We don't know for sure," said Aimée. "We think it's possible and if so, it's the only thing my daughter showed of her true heritage, or allowed to show."

"When I became ill...," said Fleur, thinking hard. "I found the door of that building shut and locked and then it burst into flames. Was that _because_ I was ill?"

"Partly," replied Aimée. "You were beyond needing calm and strength. And because there was an internal battle, and you had allowed yourself to be parted from your lover, you were being shut out of your own realm. I realized what had happened, and that's why I might have been angry with you. I was actually in great fear for you."

"I hate fire," said Fleur, in a grumbling manner.

"I'm sure you know why, now?" offered Aimée.

"Because of Joan," Hermione answered.

"Yes, because of the manner of her tragic death," said Aimée, solemnly. "It's the most hurtful thing to our line that we could be faced with. Even if it's only known in our subconscious. In Fleur's deep illness, fire was the worst thing her mind could try to hurt her with. Her body believed it was dying - which it was - and it felt death at the extreme."

"I wonder if that's why I was so affected by the burning sensations when we were joined?" asked Hermione.

"It's possible," said Aimée. "It's all very possible."

Fleur actually chuckled. "It's a good thing that I trust you, Grandma, because I'm not sure I'd believe a word of this otherwise!?"

"It _is_ rather fantastical, isn't it?" agreed Aimée.

"Is it helpful at all to anything else?" asked Fleur.

"It's helpful to know why you're seeing it," stated Aimée. "And that it is a place of safety for your mind, which you can both luckily use when you need to. Without knowing it, visiting there in a time of need, can instil strength in you. I'm sure you thought you felt better from seeing each other there, which was confusing the issue, but you were gaining from the place, from the source. Always be grateful for it and hold reverence for it."

"Is it safe for me to go there again?" asked Fleur. "I haven't tried since the door burst into flames."

"It's safe, my beautiful one, now you're no longer ill and your body is no longer fighting itself and trying to punish itself."

"It's not quite what I expected, but I'm honoured to know about it," said Hermione. "Thank you for telling us."

"You had to know soon," said Aimée. "I knew you'd ask about it, eventually."

"So, I should have realized something was going on when my relationship with Hermione deepened!? And I should have known that when I saw that place I had to come and talk to you about things?!" said Fleur, not really asking a question, and with an incredulous expression.

"As I've said, I was expecting too much," said Aimée. "There is actually nothing more I can tell you now that would be useful. But there are other things, and perhaps we can talk more when you get back from this search with Harry Potter."

"Is Stefanie related to your family?" asked Hermione. "Only, you both seem to know what the other is saying and what things mean."

"Yes, she also has the blood and sees the church," said Aimée, proudly. "Sadly her partner, Sophie, does not have the abilities that you have been given by Fleur, and in that you are almost unique. I say 'almost', because usually anything we think is unique tends to have had another instance at some point in our history."

"I'm glad for it," said Hermione. "Honoured and glad."

"You're most welcome, my dear. An honorary member of our family."

"Is Joan the reason for where our veelas live?" asked Fleur.

"You know where we are?" Hermione asked Fleur, remembering that Aimée wouldn't tell her their location, other than saying it was near Alsace, and she never thought about asking Fleur where they were. "Of _course_ you do. So where are we?"

"Lorraine," replied Fleur.

Realization hit Hermione as she imagined a map of France in her mind. "And Lorraine is near Alsace..."

"It was chosen for a reason, by the leading veelas a long time ago," explained Aimée. "It seemed the perfect place to be. We are aware of many of our long ago ancestors, but before Joan and her mother, we do not know exact places. Veelas without that lineage are still very proud of it and gladly reside here."

Another thought hit Hermione now, and although she had said she wouldn't bring the subject up, the question was burning within her and even though she thought she already knew the answer, she wanted it confirmed.

"I'm sorry to ask this, Aimée," said Hermione, which made Fleur look at her, wondering what she was going to ask her grandmother. "Fleur told me...about your name. I wasn't going to say anything and upset you, or betray a trust...but I'm wondering..."

"Have no fear of asking me anything," said Aimée. "I do not mind Fleur telling you about me. What do you want to know?"

"Is Joan the reason you hate the Valois name?" Hermione said, a cringing expression reaching her face, now that she had said it out loud.

Aimée reached across and held one of Hermione's hands. "You know some French history, it would seem? Yes, you are correct. 'Hate' is a strong word, but I strongly _dislike_ that family name, as did my husband. You could say it is in our blood to dislike it."

Fleur looked at her grandmother and then at Hermione, not quite understanding whatever it was Hermione had suggested. "French history? I always thought you were anti-aristocracy and that's why you didn't like the name, or is Hermione referring to something else?"

"You always complained that history lessons bored you," said Aimée, with a smile. "I think you must have nodded off during that one."

"King Charles VII was from the House of Valois," explained Hermione. "You know, the king Joan helped to acquire his throne and then who deserted her once he no longer had a use for her?"

"Ohhh!" said Fleur. "I get it now! That explains a lot. I never thought about that connection. With my Grandfather having some Valois and veela blood, that must have been complex and confusing?!"

"Not to him it wasn't, nor to me. He was loyal to the veelas," said Aimée with a sad, wistful look on her face. "And loyal to his country and its people, to the last."

"I'm so sorry to have brought that all up," said Hermione, feeling guilty. "I...sometimes I have these questions and..."

"I'm happy that you know," said Aimée, patting Hermione's hand. "And I hope that whatever questions you have, that you'll always feel you can come to me and ask. I'm always here for you, whatever it is. I've seen and heard a lot in my time, there's not much left that can surprise me."

Fleur and Hermione felt somewhat tired and overwhelmed, after absorbing all the information and trying to make sense of it and believe it, and when they knew it was true, they then went back to feeling slightly shocked and in awe. They spent the rest of the day with Aimée, although not talking about veela lore much. Before they left, Aimée gave them some money in both French francs and Belgian francs, which she thought they might need for their journey.

They got back to the cottage in the evening and Hermione ran them a bath, before they had an early night. As they got into bed, a tired Fleur put her hand to her chest, as the tiredness of the day brought on her familiar ache.

"Your chest again?" asked Hermione, having seen Fleur grimace.

"A little ache," said Fleur as she lay down. "I forget about it and it takes me by surprise."

"I hope you don't have to deal with it for much longer," said a concerned Hermione.

"I'd rather have an ache in my chest, than have to live without you," said Fleur, seriously.

Hermione leaned over Fleur, and looked down into her piercing blue eyes. "I know I haven't had that long to be an expert on the subject, but I know that I love you very much."

Fleur wrapped her arms around Hermione's neck and pulled her down for a slow, tender kiss. Hermione pressed soft kisses to Fleur's cheeks and worked her way down her neck, before pushing up the Frenchwoman's T-shirt and pressing light kisses to the area of her lover's chest, where she always felt the aches and pains: the nagging reminder of her illness. Slowly, she worked her way back up to kiss Fleur on the lips, before settling next to her and placing an arm around her waist.

"I think we both need to sleep," said Hermione, stifling a yawn. "It was a lot to take in."

"I admit, I'm very tired," Fleur said. "I'm not sure everything has sunk in yet. Maybe a night's sleep will make things clearer in the morning." She turned her head and kissed Hermione's forehead before they found sleep almost instantly.

 **A/N: This whole wacky story with the Joan of Arc sideline twist came to me when buying, then watching, a French movie on DVD a couple of years ago called "Jeanne Captive", starring Clémence Poésy, who, as everyone knows, played Fleur in the Potter movies. If you know a reasonable amount of French, either by voice, or reading French by the subtitles(I use a combination of both) it's an interesting movie(also has Liam Cunningham in it, 'Davos' from Game of Thrones) and looks at a less covered part of Joan's life after her capture. 'Less covered', in that, most movies/TV etc concentrate on the young girl becoming a military leader etc, rather than being held by the Burgundians and sold to the English. So this whole story came to me while watching Jeanne Captive for a second time.**

 **A note about the name spelling. I had thought to have French characters calling her "Jeanne" and English ones "Joan", but that had the potential to be confusing and at times would seem a little odd in the same conversation. So I have opted for the English Joan nearly throughout, with a couple of exceptions where needed.**

 **A note about currency: Belgium uses the Euro, but it was introduced in 1999, so for this part of the story, set in 1998, they were still using Belgium Francs. France gradually started to use Euros from about the same time but not properly until 2002, so again, French Francs, were being used in 1998. Just in case anyone was wondering... :)**


	17. The Search

**A/N: One of my passions, for over ten years, has been researching World War One British and Commonwealth medals and the stories of the soldiers and nurses who owned them. I also research the soldiers in my family tree and for friends and family. So I had to include something connected to this important part of my life, in some way. Yup, self-indulgence. :)**

17: The Search

Next morning, Hermione awoke first, and like many mornings since being bonded, she watched the graceful sleeping form of Fleur. And most mornings, she had to almost make herself believe what had happened to her, and how on earth she had found herself all but married, and to a woman; and that woman being Fleur. As fast as it all had been, none of it troubled her unduly now, because she felt right with everything and she felt happy, and above all, she felt in love and secure. Her troubles felt far away, despite the looming journey ahead with Harry, and despite her unsettled thoughts about her parents. With Fleur she did indeed feel stronger. She thought through what Aimée had told them, the day before, and she felt amazement once again.

As Hermione watched Fleur breathing slowly and calmly, she studied the blonde woman's face; her cheeks bones, her jawline, how her hair framed her face and lay on the pillow. _She's related to Joan of Arc!_ She thought in awe. _I'm joined to Joan of Arc's great great great - and however many greats - niece! And I was seeing things only her lineage usually see?! That's nearly as amazing, to try and understand, as Harry owning one of the Hallows all those years!_

"How long have you been awake?" Fleur stretched and smiled.

Hermione hadn't seen Fleur wake up, as she had been miles away, thinking on all the fantastical things they had been told the day before. "Not long."

"What's going on in that brain of yours?" asked the blonde woman, having seen Hermione's far away expression.

"I was thinking about us," replied Hermione. "About yesterday too."

"You're not worried or scared by any of it, are you?"

"No. I'm astounded about the whole Joan of Arc thing, though."

"Yes. It didn't surprise me, but to have it confirmed was amazing."

"You'd heard about it before?"

"When I was at school, some of the others with veela blood would speculate that Joan might have been part veela, but mostly it wasn't talked about; a lot of those girls were very vain and cared more about their hairstyle than their ancestors, so conversations on deeper subjects never lasted for very long."

"I thought _you_ were vain when I first saw you," admitted Hermione. "I thought all of the Beauxbatons students were vain bitches!"

"That's fair...I suppose," said Fleur, almost sighing.

"I don't think you are, _now_!" Hermione quickly added. "I stopped thinking that a long time ago. When you started working for the Order I soon realized I'd misjudged you."

"No, I _was_ a vain bitch for many years, and worried about stupid things, but that changed when I saw you at Hogwarts for the first time."

"Err, as I remember it, you _were_ a bitch then!?" offered Hermione with a little laugh.

"I was more of a bitch than normal because I was desperate to hide my feelings for you and even _I_ wasn't sure of why I was acting in that way. I _am_ sorry about that."

Hermione leaned over Fleur and pressed her lips to the blonde woman's. "I know, and I forgave you for that a long time ago. We all do or say stupid things in our school years. I should have stuck up for myself at the time and let you know I'd understood you and changed things. It's not even relevant any more."

"So does this Joan of Arc thing bother you at all?"

"Bother me?"

"Well, she's a French heroine, famed for beating the English and wanting to get rid of the English...basically _kill_ the English."

"She's a heroine to many English people too," said Hermione, smiling. "It's not like it's something in recent memory, it was in the 1400s. I think a lot of people, who know her story, are disgusted with the way she was treated by everyone. By her king, whom she helped to raise to the throne; by the church and their stupid theories on what made a person, in particular, a woman, a heretic and also by the English, with their bloodthirsty pathetic need to burn her, as if that would win them back France and prove something?!"

"Do you admire her, then?"

"I admire her courage and her convictions about what she wanted and why, although I don't necessarily believe what she believed. It's hard not to admire her and what she helped to achieve." Hermione gave a little sigh. "I just don't know if I'll ever decide if she was a puppet created by someone else, to live out the myth foretold of a 'maid', or if she was slightly insane. Or if it might, strangely, all have been true."

"Knowing what we know...," Fleur began. "...do you think it's possible, that what she interpreted as voices from her angels and saints, were memories or connections to other veelas?"

"I don't know much about veelas yet," said Hermione, with a little grin. "I've not had the time to consider it, but now you've said it, I'm thinking it's plausible. Maybe Aimée knows more about it?"

"Another thing we must ask her," agreed Fleur. She turned more to Hermione and wrapped her arm around her. "So it doesn't bother you about my lineage?"

"No, of course not," replied Hermione, who then gave a little breathy laugh. "It makes you a bit more sexy, in fact. If that's even possible?!"

"More sexy?" questioned an amused Fleur.

"Thinking of you, all sweaty in armour, coming home from a battle...and..." Hermione laughed and blushed.

"And what?" said Fleur, as her fingers gently caressed Hermione's back.

"And you...you know...we...we really want to...get to know each other again."

"I've never thought of you as a stay-at-home wife?"

"And I'm not, but for the purpose of the scene I have in my head, I am, okay?"

Fleur chuckled. "Yes, it's very okay. So I take you there and then...what, while I'm wearing all that armour?"

"No!" Hermione playfully slapped Fleur's arm. "I helped you off with that first."

"I'm pleased to hear it," answered Fleur.

"I'd have you in armour or no armour, as long as I could _have_ you," said Hermione. Her breathing had become a little shallower, and she was very aware of Fleur's hand around her back. "I'll always want you."

Fleur moved in closer to Hermione, looked into her clear, sparkling eyes and kissed her. "If we're going to be with Harry tomorrow, we might as well make the most of things while we can. Until we're ready, we'll have to hide this."

"I can't think about that," said Hermione, as she pressed a couple of light kisses to Fleur's cheeks. "I'm not ashamed of us, nothing like that, but I'm just not ready to face the things we might have to face if someone finds out."

"I understand," said Fleur. "So for now, can I make love to you?"

Hermione beamed a broad smile, with the hint of a blush. "You don't have to ask."

"I know, but I like to see you blush a little..," said Fleur, amused, as she kissed Hermione's neck, before adding, "...my darling."

As the blonde woman had anticipated, and hoped, Hermione gave the faintest of shivers and wrapped her arms around Fleur, melting into her, as they enjoyed the intimacy and familiarity with each other's bodies.

XXXXXXXXXX

Later that day, the two women prepared a few things and sorted through clothes to take with them for their task with Harry, not knowing how long they would be away or the weather and conditions they might be in. With Hermione's enchanted beaded bag it was possible to, literally, take the kitchen sink with them, had they wanted to, and with their experience of recent months they didn't take long in ascertaining what they might need.

In the evening they paid Aimée a last visit, knowing that an early start the next day prevented them from seeing her on the morning they left. All three women felt emotional, but somehow managed to hold back any tears and keep things to mere glistening eyes. Aimée was both proud and fearful for her granddaughter and, amusingly, seemed to want to make sure that Hermione took care of Fleur. After a while it became more obvious that the older veela had this opinion, because Hermione had looked for horcruxes before and Fleur hadn't, making it the younger woman's duty to look after her partner and show her the way.

As they got into bed that night, setting an alarm for the following morning, Fleur felt a wash of emotions overwwhelm her and in reaction, she immediately claimed Hermione with a fiery kiss, almost crushing her in a firm embrace, as if she were enveloping and claiming every molecule of the younger woman for herself. The Frenchwoman was demanding and passionate, before Hermione had to break off to take in a lungful of air, pushing Fleur off her slightly.

"Sorry," said Fleur, sheepishly backing away. "I...I didn't mean to be so..."

"I'm...okay...," said Hermione, breathing heavily, but smiling. "You took me by surprise, that's all."

"I feel a bit...I don't know..."

"Horny?" asked Hermione, for once using the word first.

"Hmm...I think it's more than that," replied Fleur, as her hand cupped Hermione's cheek. "It's like I'm desperate to have you. Like I've never had you before."

Hermione's breathing hitched slightly on hearing that confession. She paused, thinking on what Fleur had admitted and a thought came to her. "Do you think, it might be because you know we might not be able to do this for a while, after tonight? I mean, I always want you, but you feeling desperate, like this? Or maybe because we'll be facing possible danger and you're reacting to protecting yourself and me?"

"I think it _is_ that protective part of me. Hey?! I thought you said you didn't know much about veelas?" said Fleur lightly, but her smile dropped and she sighed. "I wish I could control that veela part of me. I thought it would be fine, now we're bonded and everything. I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?"

"For being too...desperate. For manhandling you."

"Don't say sorry for that. I won't break if you squeeze me too hard," said Hermione.

"I don't ever want to be like Bill," said a worried Fleur. "I can't do that to you."

"Fleur, you're not like that. When I pushed you back just then, you moved back, you didn't carry on. You're not out of control. The only time you ever were was when you were ill and that doesn't count," said Hermione, her voice soft and calm, before adding with a whisper. "Besides, I might like you getting desperate with me...claiming me as yours."

It was Fleur's turn for her breathing to hitch and she released a sound in her throat, as she expelled her breath, that was the faintest of growls. Her lips met Hermione's, softly at first, but as the younger woman wrapped her arms around her, and also became needy, the two women very soon became passionate. A quick spell rid them of their clothes, not wanting their bodies to be apart longer than was absolutely necessary.

Lips and fingertips traced urgent journeys over flushed warm skin, accompanied by the soundtrack of pleasurable utterances, until Fleur could stand it no longer and entered her lover with her fingers. Hermione panted out a moaned response to her building need suddenly being answered. She moved against the blonde woman, riding her dexterous fingers almost roughly in her urgency, aware that Fleur had more fingers inside her than usual, making her feel so contentedly full. She was experiencing some of the desperation she thought Fleur was feeling and she fleetingly wondered if it was being passed over from their bond, but all rational thought soon deserted her; one of her hands gripped the Frenchwoman's back and her other hand beside her, gripped the sheet, trying to ground herself, as if her body might lift off the bed in flight, if she didn't hold on.

With skill, Fleur anticipated her lover's reactions and was loving every moment of moving against and being inside Hermione. Even in the sexually charged days after their bonding, they had never made love with such need and near exigency. Fleur was rubbing herself against the younger woman's conveniently placed thigh, and as she felt the woman begin to let go, she curled her four, firm, forceful fingers inside her lover and accessed the place which could give absolute sexual bliss.

In moments, Hermione closed her eyes, threw back her head against the bed and yelled out Fleur's name, her body arching up, alive and jolting with pleasure. The sight and power of it sent Fleur over the edge too, moaning loudly and collapsing at her lover's side.

Several moments later, Hermione was still breathing heavily, her eyes closed, her body shaking every so often, as if she was connected to some energy source. Fleur watched her, mesmerized, and wanting to desperately hold her lover, she slowly slid her fingers from Hermione, the younger woman's body reacting as though it didn't want her to leave at all. Hermione exclaimed a groan and her hips bucked as Fleur's hand left her. She rolled slightly on to her side and curled up a little, her hips flinching intermittently.

"Are you all right?" asked Fleur, concerned. "Shit! I was too rough!? Are you hurting?"

Hermione couldn't answer to begin with and was only able to shake her head. Finally she answered. "No..."

"Are you sure?" asked Fleur "I was probably..."

"You didn't hurt me. Please...stop worrying about that," said Hermione, her inner walls still clenching and unclenching, making her appear to squirm. "I feel so damn good...it's like...it's like..."

"What?" enquired Fleur, as she lay down next to the brunette, trailing a hand down the side of the woman's body, briefing stroking a breast, before resting her hand on Hermione's hip.

Wrapping her arm around the blonde woman, Hermione pressed a soft shaking kiss to Fleur's lips, before moving back to focus on those blue eyes. "It's like you're still inside me, even now." As if to prove the notion, Hermione's hips moved involuntarily again.

"Oh." Fleur said, continuing to look worried. "You're sure? I want you to tell me the truth."

"I'm sure," said Hermione with a broad smile. "And loved every minute!" Her groin wouldn't let her rest yet and she groaned.

"What?"

"This is nearly as bad as when we were first joined," said Hermione, as she leaned in and said in a low quiet voice, her hand moving over Fleur's hip to hold a buttock before moving back to rest between the blonde woman's legs. "I can't get enough of you."

Unsurprisingly, they made love again, and after Fleur had reached her climax, the Frenchwoman replaced her fingers between Hermione's legs with her mouth, letting her lips and tongue gently pleasure her lover again. After this, falling asleep wasn't a problem, and Fleur held Hermione in one of their favourite sleeping positions: spooning the brunette from behind, and an arm around her protectively, holding her breast.

XXXXXXXXX

The morning arrived fast, and as if they had an inbuilt alarm clock, both women awoke just before the time they had set their alarm in the room. Both of them stretched and gave a mildly annoyed groan, from that familiar sense of knowing they had to get up and start their day, but that the bed felt even more comfortable and relaxing than it had ever felt before.

In no time at all, they had eaten a light breakfast and were standing in the kitchen, ready to leave for Grimmauld Place.

"And so it begins...," said Hermione wistfully. "...AGAIN!"

"Well, this sounds like it should be faster than your hunt before. At least you know roughly what it is and where it might be," offered Fleur, remaining positive, although inside she was feeling cautious and prepared that things might take longer than they hoped.

"That's true; but it doesn't make me any more enthusiastic about any of it." Hermione sighed. "I thought I'd left all of this behind when the battle was over, and being with you, and being joined to you...I...I thought I could begin to start things anew: to look forward. It seems that I'm being dragged back. And I don't know how Ron will be, or anything."

Fleur wrapped her arms around Hermione in a warm hug. "I understand; of course I do. As to Ron, we can only react to what he does or says, we can't plan for that. As to the task, in a way I'm not surprised. When I was with the Order, devising the many plans and ideas we put together for every situation, the subject of 'what happens if we win' was discussed too. How we would rebuild the magical world, in mind and heart, rather than physically. We were prepared that some things might not be over straight away. I had no idea it would be anything like this, but here we are."

"Yes, here we are... _again_."

"This seems to have a very visible end," said Fleur. "You know there's only one horcrux, and once you find it, that's it. Then we have all the time after, to do whatever we wish; which we couldn't say with any certainty the last time either of us departed on a mission. We have a lifetime of 'after' to get back to, when we're finished with this."

"I long for that already!" said Hermione with a smile. "Okay, we'd better be going now. Nothing is going to make it go away."

They held hands; Hermione had decided that she would Disapparate them to Grimmauld Place, as Fleur would be taking them to the Menin Gate. It wasn't only a desire to take on some of the workload, but Hermione didn't want to be a queasy passenger twice in short succession. In a familiar, short and not altogether pleasant _whoosh,_ the pair of them arrived on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place. The younger woman pressed against the door and straight away it opened and the pair of them were standing in the dark, dank hallway.

"This hasn't changed a bit," said Hermione, remembering the last time she was there, when it had been something of a safehouse, before the disaster of nearly been caught on the doorstep by a Ministry official, who was more a servant of Voldemort than of the Ministry.

"It's always so dark here," observed Fleur. "It hasn't changed at all. It's..."

"Who goes there?!" an almost croaky voice demanded, followed by a popping sound as a very old-looking house elf appeared in front of them.

"Kreacher?!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Oh, it's you two," said the house elf, in his usual disapproving manner. "Wait here, I'll..."

"Fleur!?" another voice said, as someone appeared from a door at the side of the hallway, rushed forward and flung their arms around the blonde woman.

"Bill?" asked an astonished Fleur. "What are you...?"

"How could you think I'd miss being here to see you?" the red-haired man said. "When I knew what was going on, I offered my help to Harry. I had to see you."

Fleur felt ashamed that she hadn't asked to see him while she was briefly going to be at Grimmauld Place. It was mainly because she feared he would be stubbornly against her going with Harry and try to stop her. "I'm sorry...I didn't think...I..."

"It doesn't matter," said Bill, standing back, looking over his wife. "You're here, and you're well. You a _re w_ ell, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm much better," said Fleur. "It's been a long process, but I'm okay."

"I'm sorry I didn't write," said Hermione timidly. "Everything was...difficult for a time and...Aimée...she..."

"You don't need to explain," replied Bill. "Aimée told me quite a lot, and told me even more by the things she was so obviously leaving out. I know things were very doubtful when you left and I know what you did for Fleur. All that matters is that she's healthy, and happy. The last time I saw her was very worrying and it's just so good to see her awake even!"

"So you know about Harry? About why we're here?" Hermione asked Bill, not wanting to dwell on herself making Fleur 'happy' and wondering if Aimée had mentioned the joining ritual or not, or if he only knew about that from what Fleur had written to him.

"Yeah. It seems that Fleur and I will be novices, compared to you three experienced horcrux hunters," he said.

"Ron's here?"

"He's in the kitchen with Harry." Bill turned to lead them down the hallway. Kreacher had disappeared again, realizing that he wasn't wanted or needed.

"Is he...does he...?" Hermione tried to voice a question.

"He doesn't know about _that_. It's not my, or anyone's, place to tell him, but your's," answered Bill, seriously. "I have hinted that you might have changed though, having been through a lot and all that. Which might buy you some more time, if you seem a little 'off' to him."

"Er...thanks, I think," said Hermione, confused, as they walked to the kitchen.

Bill opened the door for them and walked in first. "Here they are then! Our little army is up to full strength."

The two women walked into the kitchen, finding Ron sitting at the kitchen table and Harry standing at one end of the table, closing up the ties on a rucksack. Both looked to the door.

"About time!" said Ron. He stood up and went over to Hermione, and with no thought, hugged her.

Hermione immediately felt self-conscious, but returned the hug while thinking hard about being a good friend, close to repeating a mantra of: ' _He's one of my best friends'_ to keep herself guarded. She was saved by Harry coming to hug her too.

"It's good to see you here," said Harry. "I hoped we'd never have to do anything like this ever again, but if we have to, then it's great to be able to set out on it together."

"With two new recruits," said Bill with a grin.

"You're okay to do this, Fleur?" asked Harry.

"Yes, I'm ready," replied the Frenchwoman. "If we all know what we're doing, we might as well get to the Menin Gate. The earlier the better, to avoid as much notice as possible, depending on what we find."

"We might have to just look to begin with, and then judge how and when we can remove the horcrux when we find it," said Harry.

"That's where having an extra couple of wands and extra eyes will be helpful," said Bill.

"I've also thought that if anyone thinks we're acting strangely, or wondering what we're searching for, I can come up with some name I'm looking for on the wall panels," suggested Hermione. She was aware that Ron kept looking at her and smiling and she was trying to remain neutral, as she fell back on her usual stance of having knowledge about something. "If I remember, there are over 50,000 names on the wall panels, so looking around vaguely should be expected by most visitors."

"Right, let's start this, shall we?" said Ron, clapping his hands together.

"I'm going to Side-Along Apparate us about two miles from the Gate," said Fleur. "We can walk in from there, as it's too busy a place to risk our appearance out of thin air if we arrived closer to it."

"I'll go and check the front of the house. We should be cloaked, but it's best to check no one sees us, if possible," said Bill, making his way back down the hall. He returned in a couple of minutes. "All clear."

They all walked to the front doorstep, moved into a circle, put their hands into the centre to hold everyone else's, as Fleur Disapparated them to a corner of parkland on the outskirts of the town of Ieper in Belgium, once known as Ypres, scene of some of the most devastating fighting in World War One on more than one occasion.

The small group of witches and wizards arrived under some trees on the edge of parkland. All of them had to take a moment to get their bearings and their nausea settled. Fleur looked around them and was pleased to note that no one seemed to have seen them appear. There were two people walking a dog, a couple of hundred yards away, but they were walking in the other direction and were oblivious to the new arrivals.

"Everyone okay?" asked Fleur.

"Yeah, fine. I'm just trying to drag my stomach back down from my throat!?" said Ron with sarcasm.

"I hope you aren't going to keep moaning on for the entire trip?" Bill asked his younger brother.

"Moaning? I wasn't moaning!" stated Ron.

"Good, because if you do, you know what _I'll_ have to do?!" offered Bill.

"Like you'd even get near me?!" said Ron.

Fleur went to stand next to Hermione. "We might have to separate them later," she said in a very quiet voice, with a small laugh.

"You'll get used to Ron and his complaints," said Hermione. "Somehow, Harry and I did."

"What are you two talking about?" asked Ron, walking over to the two women.

"Er...just noting that couple walking their dog," said Hermione, thinking fast. "They haven't seen us."

"Which direction do we start walking, Fleur?" asked Harry

"That way," said Fleur, pointing in the opposite direction to the dog-walking couple. "I'll let you know when we have to take any turns."

The five of them set off at a comfortable pace, with Harry walking beside Hermione and, as always, Ron decided to walk on her other side. Bill and Fleur walked behind them.

"Have you had any more dreams, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Only a very brief flash of this place we're going to," replied Harry. "Whether that's because it was on my mind, or was a real connection thing, I don't know."

"How are _you_ , Hermione?" asked Ron. "It's felt like ages since we last saw you. You didn't write much?!"

"Sorry about that," the brunette replied. _You didn't write much either, Ron,_ she thought. "A lot happened after I left with Fleur. She was seriously ill. It's taken a long time to get her back to health."

"Are you still connected to her, or whatever it was you tried to explain?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, what was that all about?" asked an intrigued Ron. "Harry tried to explain it. You've made an Unbreakable Vow with her?"

Hermione had to take a small extra breath, and find calm within herself quickly. _Keep it vague and simple,_ she thought. "It's not an _actual_ Unbreakable Vow. I was joined to her, magically, to...to help with her getting better. Sort of like grounding her," she explained, proud of her inventiveness, which was close to the truth without being the complete truth. "I've had to stay near her for her healing to continue."

"I've never heard anything like that before, to make someone well?!" said Ron, seeming to not understand.

"Turn right, at the end of this street," said Fleur from behind.

"It's not normal medicine," said Hermione, already tired of the conversation, and hoping that Fleur might rescue her and start talking about something else for Harry and Ron to think about, but she knew that Bill and Fleur probably wanted to talk to each other, as her partner had stepped back from them again to stay behind. "It's veela. One of the veelas healed Fleur and created this link between us...anyway, it worked and she's better."

"Everyone was really worried," said Harry. "Mrs. Weasley was about to go off and find you and Fleur, until Bill told her not to."

"I can't believe how calmly Bill was taking it, that his wife was ill and her grandmother takes _you_ with her and not him?!" said a bewildered Ron. "That doesn't make sense and it's bloody harsh. He's her _husband_?!"

"I can't go into details, Ron, but where we went was a veela community and there are very few men there," answered Hermione, a lot more calmly than she felt. "Bill and I talked to each other before we left. He knew what was happening and that he couldn't go. He would have done, had they allowed it."

"Are you a paid-up member of the ' _veela community'_ now, then?" asked Ron, with a smirk.

"I'm not sure what you mean by that?"

"I just wondered if they'd taught you anything and you'd soon have men swooning around you like they do?"

"No," said Hermione, flatly. "You can't learn that. You're either a veela or you aren't." Although, she considered that she might be a bit more veela than the normal muggle-born witch, due to her literally having a small piece of veela within her now.

Bill and Fleur had been talking quietly to each other as they walked along behind the other three.

"Before your letter, your grandmother told me that you and Hermione...are...whatever it is women veelas have with other women, for..." Bill struggled to find the words

"We're joined to each other," said Fleur, softly. "The bond was done a few weeks ago. Everything was very difficult for a long time."

"You were really ill, weren't you? Your grandmother didn't give great details in her letters and messages, but I could tell she was holding something back."

Fleur got hold of Bill's hand. "Yes, I was very ill before my grandmother arrived, dying in fact."

Bill looked at his wife as he absorbed the information, which he had almost guessed for himself at the time, but was still slightly shocked to have his fears confirmed. "What caused it? Did you have flu? Is flu more dangerous for veelas?"

"I didn't have flu." Fleur then carefully explained about Hermione being the cause, not giving too many details and almost whispering what she did say, not wanting the two men in front of them to hear.

"I warned her not to reject you or upset you," said Bill.

"It wasn't her fault. It was one of those things. I'm well again...okay, I sometimes feel a little tired and have a few aches, but I'm basically healthy."

"When we finish here, you and Hermione can live at Shell Cottage. There's enough room for all of us without crowding each other."

"Thank you, Bill," said Fleur, touched by what her husband was offering. "It means a lot. I can't imagine how you really feel about all of this. I think we'll be going back to my grandmother's for a little while, though. We still have so much to ask her, about my heritage and about the things Hermione needs to know as well."

"You'll always have a home with me, if you want it or need it," offered Bill. "I still love you. Always will."

Fleur's breath hitched and she felt a little ache in her chest. "I love you, Bill. After everything, I love you. And I'm so very, very sorry."

"I know," the red-haired man said, sighing, his shoulders momentarily slumping. "We can't change things. We can't change what we both are. But you can always come to me for help, to talk to me, even just for a supportive hug...I'll be there for you."

They both turned their heads and made eye contact, as they continued to walk behind the others, and in that instant, they understood each other as only true friends and married couples could. Both gave a little resigned nod and then had to look away, as their eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

They were walking along a main road now, and passing several shops and businesses, and a long way ahead they could see the huge arch of the Menin Gate, bridging across the road. Fleur closed the gap between herself and Bill and the others in front of them; she tapped Hermione on the shoulder. "That's the Gate...can't miss it! It goes across the river."

As they walked nearer and nearer, encountering more people the closer they got to the monument, Harry was moving his head, looking and already searching for any possible place that the horcrux could be resting. "The road goes through it?" he asked, as he saw several cars drive in their direction, having been held up at a junction the other side of the Gate.

"Yes," said Hermione. "I remember reading that they stop the traffic every evening for the Last Post to be played in honour of the fallen."

"That's not right," said Harry.

"They _shouldn't_ commemorate them?" asked Hermione, surprised.

"No, I don't mean that," replied Harry, his eyes frantically scanning the large structure they were soon to walk under. "It...it doesn't look right."

"Well, this is the Menin Gate, Harry," said Fleur, walking closer to them and overhearing what he said. "It looks like your drawing."

"I know, and the middle arch does look the same...but not the same. It's...it's too big!" said a confused and exasperated Harry. "It was imposing, but not _that_ imposing. I can't see any wooden benches...even the arch doesn't seem right...or in the wrong place..."

"Wooden benches? The horcux wasn't a bench, was it?" asked Hermione, confused as well. "I thought you said it was a crown-type thing again, you never said anything about benches?"

"I didn't?" replied Harry. "Sorry. It didn't seem important, because the building would lead me to see the benches...I mean, it sort of looks right...but not right...this doesn't look like the place."

"That's a bit deflating," said Bill, then decided to give the group some much needed optimism. "Let's have a look around, while we're here. Maybe it looked different when you _saw_ it Harry, but it could still be the place."

"Perhaps..," said a doubtful Harry.

They walked under the huge arch on one side. Each side had a large alcove with an area used for the laying of wreaths at various important times of the year, including the main day of armistice on 11 November every year.

As they looked at a few panels of names, soon becoming overwhelmed by the sheer volume of names there, Ron gave a little laugh. "I wouldn't mind having a place built like this to commemorate me when I die!"

"It's not to one person!" said Hermione, quickly. "Over 50,000 names are here. Over 50,000 people with no known grave. Over 50,000 people with grieving mothers, wives, siblings and children, never knowing what really happened to them..."

"I know!" said Ron, sharply. "I was just saying..."

"Yeah and not very well," added Bill, seeing that Hermione looked irritated with his brother.

"I was only...," began Ron, but was cut off by his brother again.

"Why don't the girls stay this side of the road, and us lot will check the other side of the arch?" suggested Bill, as he waited for a gap in the traffic and walked to the other side of the road, Harry and Ron following, with Ron still seemingly grumbling.

Fleur was at Hermione's side. "Are you okay?"

Hermione expelled an annoyed sigh. "I didn't like Ron making fun of this place. With the things we were doing before the battle at Hogwarts, any one of us could have had 'no known grave'. I shouldn't be morbid, but it struck me, and Ron was being all stupid, having only just buried a brother himself from a war..."

"Sometimes boys will always stay boys," said Fleur, with half a smile. "And sometimes, even as grown men, they will say stupid things to hide how they might really be feeling. I'm not making excuses for Ron, but perhaps he _was_ thinking about Fred, perhaps only in his subconscious, and it made him talk nonsense, to get away from what he was really thinking."

"Anything is possible with him," said Hermione. "We'd better take a proper look in the section here. Is Bill okay?"

"He's fine," replied Fleur, as they looked at a very clean and neatly kept area of the memorial. "He's still the same Bill. We're very lucky he is how he is."

"One less person to cause a scene, I suppose," said Hermione.

"He said we can live at Shell Cottage if we want to."

"Really?" asked a wide-eyed Hermione. "That would feel awkward, but that's...that's amazing?!"

"I know. I told him we'd probably be going back to Grandma's for a little while, anyway."

"I think Aimée will expect us to, she'll want to hear about everything we do here."

"There's a lot more I want to ask her as well," said Fleur.

"Me too," agreed Hermione, as they finished looking at their side of the memorial. "I hate to say it, but Harry might be right, there's nothing here. Perhaps it isn't the place. I don't think Death Eaters could have moved anything because this is so well looked-after, they'd never get the chance to move something, or take something away."

"Perhaps this isn't going to be so easy after all," said Fleur, but with good humour. "I had a feeling it wouldn't be. Nothing is ever _this_ easy when it's connected to Harry!"

As the two women walked back to the road side of the arch, a man in smart, but casual clothes, approached them and spoke French to them. Hermione understood as well as Fleur, and knew he was asking if they needed any help, or were looking for a particular name on the memorial panels, as his job was to help visitors. When Hermione answered in French, the man smiled and continued in English.

"You're not sure this is the memorial you're looking for?" he asked.

In a piece of extremely quick thinking, even by Hermione's standards, she replied, "We had seen a very old family photo that looked a bit like the Menin Gate here, but it's not the place." She reached into her pocket, put a hand into her beaded bag and pulled out a small notebook, that would feasibly have fitted into her pocket. She quickly sketched the basic outline of the building Harry had dreamed about. "It looks like here, but it's not...and it might have had wooden benches."

"Hmm. I can see that it is not the Menin Gate," the man answered, thinking. "The arches are wrong, and we don't have much in the way of benches."

"Do you have any idea what it might be, or another cemetery that has a building like that, probably quite a bit smaller too?" asked Hermione, hopefully.

"There are a couple that I know of. Are you looking for a name in particular, or a grave, or just the cemetery itself?"

Again thinking quickly and carefully, Hermione decided to give her own last name, which was relatively ordinary and common, but would be safer than asking vaguely for someone with the name 'Potter' or 'Weasley'. "I'm always looking for Granger family members."

"Granger?" said the man, as if the name was very familiar, his eyes looking off into the distance, as if he could find the reference in his mind, and indeed, he managed to offer some information. "Hmm, I seem to remember there being one named here, in fact I'm sure of it...possibly a Canadian?"

"No, I don't think we had any Canadian soldiers in the family," said Hermione, making the pretence of thinking hard about it. "But it's possible a family member could be at this other place we're looking for."

"If I might take your drawing, I'll show my colleague; he might be able to help you more about the place you seek." The man then proffered his hand to shake, after he had taken Hermione's notebook. "By the way, I'm Alain. I'll be right back."

The boys had walked back to Hermione and Fleur's side of the road now, and were wondering whom they had been talking to.

"This might be the quickest way to finding your place, Harry," said Hermione. "Often these guides know every inch of the memorials and cemeteries."

A short time later Alain returned with an older, rather skinny man. "Hello, I'm Rodney," he said in an English accent. "Alain tells me you're looking for a particular place that looks like here, but isn't here?"

"Yes, do you know where that other place, or places, might be?" asked Hermione.

"And you're looking for the name 'Granger'?" asked Rodney.

"Yes, if possible, but if we can find that building it would answer some questions about this old photo I remember one of our family having," said Hermione, inventing her backstory as she went along. "But if there's a Granger there, that's a bonus, and would make even more sense."

The English guide looked over their small party and then stood up straighter and his gaze became more intense, as it was obvious he had at least part of an answer for them and liked to 'perform' in front of tourists. "I think it would be worth your while to try Béthune Town Cemetery in Béthune, it's in the Pas de Calais area of France. It has a building with arches, and...and Alain mentioned benches, well it has those, but it's definitely more like your drawing and I'm sure you'll find an ancestor there. I'm pretty sure there's a Granger there in the area of Plot 5, not far from the Great Cross, and that's not far from the building part of the cemetery."

"That's a lot of knowledge to have about every soldier's grave?!" said Ron, disbelieving.

Rodney stared disapprovingly at the younger of the two ginger-haired young men. "It so happens that I used to work at that cemetery, so yes, I do know a lot about that particular one and the 3000-plus graves there."

Ron's cheeks flushed. "Sorry, mate. I didn't know...it just sounded..."

"No offence taken," said Rodney, with a smile, which showed a row of slightly crooked teeth. "Anyway that's the place I'd look first. There's usually someone around to ask, if you need more help."

"We were very fortunate to have Rodney join our team here a long time ago," said Alain. "He has an excellent memory for detail, which helps a great deal working at these bigger memorials. I'm sure he's been a big loss to Béthune."

Alain's English colleague looked a little embarrassed and stared at Alain with amazement and shrugged his shoulders. "You're far too kind."

"Thanks," said Hermione. "You've been really helpful. You must get no end of questions?"

"All the time, but we're happy to help," said Rodney. "It's our job and I've always enjoyed my duties."

"Absolutely," said Alain. "It's always a pleasure to meet new visitors to our sites. That's why we're here."

"Thanks again," said Hermione, taking her notebook back and turning to the others. "We'll try Béthune, then."

"We'll go there soon," said Harry, carefully, as they were still in earshot of the two guides. "Let's walk back the way we came."

"Good idea," said Bill, as they nodded to the guides and began walking away.

When they were a fair distance from the Gate, Harry asked, "Has anyone heard of Béthune before?" He looked hopefully to Hermione. "Have you been to that one?"

"Sorry, Harry, but it wasn't one I visited," the brunette replied.

"Fleur, have you?" Harry asked.

"No, but I know where it is," she answered, and could then almost feel the weight on Harry's shoulders lighten a little. "I know where we can aim for, but if we had a map that might be more helpful, to pick an exact location to Apparate to."

"There must be a shop selling maps along here somewhere," said Hermione, scanning the street and the shops they were passing. She saw a newsagents across the road. "Try there."

"I'll go," said Fleur.

"Are you saying Hermione's French is crap?" asked Ron, amused.

"No," said Fleur. "I only thought it would be something I'd be best at _and_ I have the money," she said, taking out a small wallet from a pocket, thankful to her grandmother for giving them some Belgian francs before they left.

As they all crossed the street and waited outside the newsagents' for Fleur to hopefully buy a map of the area they needed, Hermione said, "For some reason, no matter how good your French is, it's very obvious we're English. In fact it's like having 'English' stamped on our forehead for all to see!"

"So why the hell does anyone bother to learn it, then?" Ron asked.

"It's polite to at least try to speak it when here. When in Rome and all that," said Hermione.

"When in Rome?" pondered Ron. "But you'd need to speak Italian there?!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Figure of speech...'When in Rome, do as the Romans do'? You know, try to act like the locals and not make a scene of yourself."

"Oh, I still don't..." Ron was cut off from whatever else he was going to say when Fleur joined them again holding a map.

"I think they have every map you can think of in there," said Fleur, as she unfolded the one she had bought. "It's fortunate that there are so many tourists here, for things like this to be in stock. AND they had a small guide book of plans of some of the military cemeteries and Béthune is in it!" She held the small book in one of her hands as they looked at the area of the map they needed.

They all tried to peer at the map, with Bill and Ron having to see it upside down. "There looks like some fields opposite to where the cemetery is marked," said Bill.

"That would be a good place to aim for," said Fleur.

"Although, it would be awkward if we turned up just as the farmer was in the middle of cutting his crops, or feeding his cattle or whatever the field is used for," said Hermione.

"Ahh...that could be tricky," said Harry.

"Do we need daylight?" asked Ron. "Or could we snoop around at night, to get an idea of what's positioned where, and then know where to aim for in daylight if we need to?"

"Yeah, it might be better to do this at night time...although the cemetery will probably be locked," said Harry.

"No problem for the Apparating magical community!" said Bill.

"Okay then, we'll take a look tonight," decided Harry.

"What should we do until then?" asked Fleur.

"Go back to Grimmauld Place," said Harry. "Have some food, get some rest and then venture to Béthune tonight. I had Kreacher make up all the beds, just in case."

"And nobody else knows about this?" asked Hermione. "We really don't need visitors right on top of this."

"No one else knows," assured Harry.

They walked back to the place they had arrived, in the parkland area. It now had a lot more people walking through: more dog walkers, tourists and children. They all stood near a clump of trees and bushes, but it would be extremely odd to see them just disappear in front of someone looking at them at the wrong time.

"Bollocks!" exclaimed Ron. "This is going to be hard to leave from here."

"All of us can Apparate, Disapparate and Side-Along Apparate?" asked Bill and when everyone nodded he said, "Right, we'll have to space out and go behind these trees and leave gradually. Harry, you go first and make sure the house is open and Kreacher isn't about to attack us as intruders or something?! Then I'll go with Ron. Hermione and Fleur can go last."

"I could go with Hermione, if you want to go with Fleur?" Ron suggested to his brother.

"We'd better not," said Hermione, trying not to sound alarmed.

"Oh, that unbreakable vow thingy, is it?" asked Ron.

"Yes, we'd better not risk being split up at the moment," said Hermione as calmly as she could.

"Okay, I'll see you all in a few minutes' time," said Harry, as he looked around, saw no one was looking at them and walked behind the trees. A faint cracking noise told the others that he had gone.

After a few minutes, which felt a lot longer, Bill and Ron made the same journey. Bill gave Fleur's arm a little squeeze as he passed her. "See you in a little while."

Fleur and Hermione had had to wait a few extra minutes due to some kind of terrier dog running up to them and greeting them enthusiastically. The dog, apparently called Bob, was soon followed by a tired-looking owner, apologising to them and telling them a dozen stories of how Bob liked to play games with her and run free when he had the chance. After much pleasantries, and general doggie banter in French, the two women were alone again.

"I thought she'd never go," said Hermione, tiredly.

"I can see why the dog tries to get away," said Fleur. "It's his only chance at some peace and quiet." This made them both laugh.

Carefully looking at their surroundings and that they weren't overlooked, the two women walked behind the trees and left for Grimmauld Place, groaning a sigh of relief when they stood in the hallway of the house.

"Where have you two been?" asked Ron, as the others all walked into the hallway to greet them.

"Any trouble?" asked Harry, concerned.

"Only a dog called 'Bob' and his owner, who could talk a hind leg off a donkey!" said Hermione. "I thought we only had people like that in England. I was thinking of hexing her, if she told us one more story about her dog escaping and his 'little paws run-run-running'."

The others burst out laughing, and then Harry, grinning, turned back towards the kitchen and beckoned Hermione and Fleur. "Come on through, Kreacher has made some nice leek and potato soup for lunch."

 **A/N: There** _ **is**_ **one Granger(Alfred) on the Menin Gate memorial, and from the Canadian forces, who died in 1917 aged 26. If you want to know more about the memorial or other British & Commonwealth war cemeteries take a look at the Commonwealth War Graves Commission website(CWGC). I have one family member named on the Menin Gate, which helped my choice of location.**


	18. Grave News

18: Grave News

Enjoying Kreacher's soup around the table in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, inevitably questions about Fleur's and Hermione's absence came up again, and also inevitably it was Ron with the first questions. The two women basically repeated what Ron already knew and kept it all very vague.

"Harry said something about you having to be together, even on this horcrux hunt?! asked Ron.

"Yes," replied Hermione. "We're towards the end of Fleur's recovery but we didn't want to risk her getting ill again, which might happen, if we're separated before she's truly healed."

Ron frowned in thought. "I didn't even know you were hurt, Fleur?"

Hermione felt like growling in frustration but Fleur answered for her. "I became ill and unfortunately I became more ill than expected. Those with veela blood can be affected by different things and that requires different types of treatment."

"Fleur's grandmother got to her in time," said Bill, not enjoying the questions either. "And for that we're very thankful."

"So, what time are we going to the cemetery tonight?" asked Hermione, wanting to move away from what happened to Fleur, while they were away.

"I was thinking just after 10pm," said Harry. "It should be fairly quiet then."

Bill nodded. "Sounds good to me, it will be 11pm over there and should be fairly dark too, even though we're still in summer."

"What if we can't do, or see, what we need to, tonight?" asked Ron. "Do we come back here again?"

"We could take a tent...of the magical kind," said Bill. "I could go back to Shell Cottage and..."

"No need," said Hermione cutting him off. "I still have one in my beaded bag."

"They should write that bag into magical folklore," said Ron. "Hermione Granger and the Beaded Bag of Plenty." That raised a few chuckles.

The group discussed the things that they might need to do, or might find, and tried to think of different situations that might arise, such was the habit for all of them to plan things as much as they could.

It was approaching 4pm when they finished discussing their plans for later. "So what can we do until then?" asked Ron.

"Whatever you like," said Harry. "The house is free to go where you want to."

"We were up bloody early this morning," said Ron, stifling a yawn. "I think I might get some sleep, especially if we're going to be adventuring later tonight."

"That actually sounds like a good idea," said Fleur.

"You're tired?" asked Hermione, concerned.

"A little. I'm okay, but I wouldn't say no to a nap."

"Where's everyone sleeping then, Harry?" asked Hermione, as normally as she could manage.

"Ron and me are in Sirius's old room, for the moment," replied Harry. "I thought, Hermione, you could be in Regulus's room and then Bill and Fleur in the room on the top floor."

Hermione hoped she was showing no outward signs of unease, at the thought of being in a different room from her partner; both Bill and Fleur were trying to do the same. None of them could say anything without it all sounding very strange, and none wanted to reveal their situation right before a very serious excursion later that night; they couldn't afford a pissed-off Ron, who might just leave, or any number of repercussions. Hermione was sure she could feel a little tension from Fleur through their almost telepathic closeness. They briefly looked at each other with a resigned expression.

"I'll need some of my clothes from your bag," Fleur said to Hermione, as they began to climb the stairs.

The two women went into the room, which had once been the bedroom of Regulus Black, and let the door close to ajar. Hermione rummaged in her beaded bag for the small bag of Fleur's clothes.

"This will feel odd," said Fleur. "I imagine Bill feels no better about it."

"We're only a floor apart," said Hermione. "Let's just try to get some rest and hopefully a few hours will pass quickly."

Fleur closed the distance between them, to take her bag from Hermione's hand, and leaned in to kiss her. It was only a brief meeting of lips before voices outside announced that they would have to part, or make things difficult for themselves.

"Go to our special place," said Fleur suddenly. "It's safe now...go there and try to find me."

"I'll try," said Hermione.

Across the landing was the bedroom that Sirius Black had used, and Ron and Harry were standing outside talking to Bill.

"I'll get Kreacher to give us an alarm call, so we're not asleep longer than 8.30pm. He can make us some dinner before we leave," said Harry.

On the top floor, Fleur and Bill entered their room and saw the double bed, immediately understanding why Harry had allocated them this room. Both gave a resigned sigh as they sat down on the end of the rather lumpy mattress.

"Sorry about this," said Bill.

"What are you saying 'sorry' for?" replied Fleur.

"Well, _this_!?" he said, gesturing to the room.

"Harry doesn't know. Nobody does and we're not ready to say anything yet."

"I know."

"Look, it's a wide bed, I'm sure we can share it and get some rest. It's still just me," said Fleur.

"You're technically married to Hermione now," said Bill, carefully. "I'm not sure it's right."

"Nothing is going to happen," said Fleur. "Hermione knows that too. Surely we can share a bed, for a short sleep, as good friends, and not worry about other things?"

Bill smiled. "We can." He paused and looked at the woman who was still legally his wife. "How are you, really? Are you in pain? I want you to know that you don't have to hide anything from me, and that I'll always want to help."

"I'm okay, Bill," replied Fleur. "I'm genuinely tired. I can get tired quickly at the moment and get a few aches, but I'm healed."

"I missed you."

"I...I..."

"You didn't miss me? That's what you were trying to cover up?" Bill smiled. "I don't expect it now."

"So much happened when I was away and I wasn't myself for a long time, but in the very difficult moments, when I was pushing Hermione away, I missed you, because you're my friend. I missed not having you to talk to," Fleur admitted. "So, yes, I missed you, but probably not in the way a wife should miss a husband."

Bill put an arm around the blonde woman. "I don't expect it. Our marriage is only a piece of paper, your heart belongs to another, even more so now. It _is_ nice to hear that you missed me, in whatever way it was."

Fleur turned and placed a kiss on Bill's cheek. "You'll always be family to me," she said, before getting up, walking around the bed and lying down, yawning in the process. She felt too tired to even try to visit her special place, to see Hermione, and hoped the younger woman would understand. "But now I must sleep. I hope you can get some rest too."

Bill stood up and turned, looking at his wife lying on the bed, he smiled a rueful smile to himself and got a blanket from a nearby chair and gently covered Fleur with it, as she was already drifting off to sleep. He then lay on the other side of the bed and tried to find sleep himself.

XXXXXXXXXX

Hermione tried to relax herself as much as possible, before trying to access the almost dreamscape world that she hadn't visited for a long time; knowing what it was she was seeing, now, only made it harder to relax and not be excited to see it. It took a few attempts before she found herself in the right place and not somewhere else she was imagining too hard and making up. When she could actually feel the grasses tickling her hands and feel the warmth of the sun, she knew she was in the right place and soon she saw the building up ahead and made her way to it, walking inside.

Everything felt magnified in her senses, knowing what she was seeing; she even felt able to smell the scent from the candles on what she now knew to be an altar, rather than a long table. Although not religious herself, Hermione was amazed by what she was seeing: she was looking at how the original church at Fierbois had looked and was able to see it because of her connection with Fleur. She walked up to the altar in awe, knowing that she must be grinning stupidly in her sleep. Taking several calming breaths she thought about Fleur, and about how much she wanted to see her there, but no one appeared. After several minutes, Hermione considered that she was either too distracted to concentrate properly, or that Fleur was sound asleep: or a combination of both wasn't making it work for some reason. A short while later Hermione gave up and dropped off into sleep herself.

XXXXXXXXXX

Hermione awoke with a start, then heard a noise which she assumed had woken her up in the first place. It was a loud crashing sound, like someone hammering against metal. She had never heard noise from neighbours when she had stayed at Grimmauld Place before, so cautiously she rolled off the bed and opened the bedroom door and was slightly suprised to see Kreacher, on the landing, holding a saucepan and banging it with a wooden spoon.

The door across the landing opened and Harry appeared. "Kreacher!? I said an alarm call not a drum solo!"

"Sorry, sir," said Kreacher, not looking sorry, but baffled. "You said to give an alarm call at 8.30pm?"

"Yeah...I did," said Harry, rubbing his eyes. "I thought it would be a bell or something."

"The only bell in the house lost its clanger many years ago," explained Kreacher.

"Oh," replied Harry, while thinking: _Kreacher lost his clanger years ago too!_ " Can you make sure that Bill and Fleur..."

"We're awake!" said Bill, as he walked down the stairs from the room above, with Fleur following him. "I think the whole of London is awake after that!"

Kreacher looked back to Harry. "If there's nothing else, I'll set the table. Pizza will be served in fifteen minutes." There was a cracking noise as Kreacher Disapparated to the ktichen.

"Kreacher makes pizza?" asked Hermione.

"I bought him a muggle cook book," said Harry, smiling.

"Did someone say pizza?" asked Ron, as he appeared on the landing, his hair a ruffled mess.

Hermione had looked to Fleur as soon as she saw her and noticed that she looked refreshed; she raised an eyebrow in question and Fleur nodded her head. The younger woman considered how easy it had been to find sleep, when she didn't think it would have been possible at all. The morning trip had used more energy than any of them knew.

"I can't wait to see what Kreacher's pizza is like," said Fleur.

Half an hour later and they all had to admit that Kreacher had mastered making a cheese and tomato pizza, with Harry telling them that he was hoping his house elf might attempt something more complicated eventually.

They all readied themselves, with necessary last trips to the loo and changing clothes before leaving Grimmauld Place a little after 10pm. Bill decided to Side-Along Apparate all of them, so no one got split up, or ended up in the wrong place. And with no drama, beyond a little stomach disturbance, the group arrived in the field opposite the cemetery.

It was virtually dark, with only the light pollution of habitation keeping things a dusky twilight and the occasional lights of a passing car. No one was doing late night farming in the field, to their relief, and even better, it appeared the field was being left fallow for that year and only had grasses and wild flowers growing in it.

"If we need to, this would be a good place to put the tent," said Bill. He looked around them and saw a clumped area of hedges, trees and shrubs towards the middle of the field. Among the many things that had changed with him since his wounding, was improved eyesight, especially at night. "Over there, near those trees would be a good place," he said, pointing to the dark clump of shrubs and trees.

Harry had been looking at the road between them and the cemetery. "Everyone ready to hop over the wall?" Everyone agreed.

They crossed the road so they were standing near the cemetery's brick wall. With another careful look around, and seeing no pedestrians or cars at that moment, they all made the short Apparate to the other side of the wall. Ron immediately fell over as he had Apparated to the edge of a tomb and fell off the corner of it, trying hard not to make too much noise but uttering an expletive as he scrambled to his feet..

"I wasn't expecting this," said Harry. "This doesn't look right! Where's the grass? The building?"

Hermione retrieved the map from her bag and getting the others to shield her, while she used a dim light from the end of her wand, she studied the topography. Then she retrieved the cemeteries book and saw a small plan of the cemetery. "It's okay," she said after a minute or two. "It's called Béthune Town Cemetery because the town cemetery is here around the military one." She looked up and could see that a short way ahead there was another wall. "It's beyond that wall and if we go straight ahead we should be in the middle walking area between the graves."

They walked over to the second wall, around further bulky tomb stones. "Why is there no grass?" asked Ron.

"In France we often have our graveyards with concrete instead of grass," answered Fleur. "It's just the way we do things. There will be grass in the other cemetery."

For a moment they stood in silence, making sure no one was walking around on the other side of the wall. Then with a nod, they made a second short Apparating journey to the other side of the wall.

"This looks more like it," Bill said in hushed tones. "I can smell the grass and feel it underfoot and those are definitely regimental lines of gravestones."

"I can see the Cross that the guide mentioned," said Harry, looking ahead, an aisle of gravestones on either side of them. They began walking slowly and quietly towards it and hadn't walked many steps when Harry saw the outline of the building beyond. "I can't tell from here if it's the right place."

The group carefully continued on their way through the cemetery, towards the building, passing the immense Great Cross on its large stepped plinth. It made Hermione dizzy to look up at it, and she felt the threat of a shiver up her spine, as the quiet of the cemetery and everything about what the place was for, resonated deep within her. No matter how many cemeteries she had visited with her parents on that holiday - which seemed like an age ago now - she wasn't prepared for how such a place would make her feel at night: she almost felt like she was intruding on the soldiers' peace.

"Are you all right?" Fleur asked in a whisper, as she put an arm around Hermione. She had sensed the unease in her partner.

"It's just this place," said Hermione, failing to stop a small shiver. "I've seen these places in daylight and found them overwhelming, the night is making it feel plain odd."

Cautiously, Harry and Bill led their small group towards the building, beyond another large memorial stone, and then they were upon the building itself. They soon saw that the building was a mass of large pillars, almost Athenian in style. But every pillar cast an even darker shadow, making everyone wonder if anyone was hiding behind one. Bill had his wand ready and was guarding Harry, as they looked around the front side of the building and saw the arches and the dark recesses between them, and that the middle arch was in fact filled in.

The younger of the two wizards walked into the archway on one side and immediately saw the dark outline of a wooden bench. "This is it!" he said in a loud whisper. "No wonder that other place was so wrong, these are the arches I saw..."

"Where would the...the... _thing_ be?" asked a careful Hermione. "I don't see any statues for a likely 'head' to be wearing it?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "But this place feels right. I'm sure it's here."

Rather than split up, they stayed in one group, as they slowly walked around the outside of the building and through the arches and pillars, looking for any likely perching place for a circlet or crown-like item. They limited the use of light from their wands and as they reached the front of the building again, all thinking hard about where the horcux might be, Hermione looked up to the roof, and saw that there were two blob-shaped pieces of architecture on the corners of the outside pillars and not as high as the roof.

"Harry, what if it's hidden as a feature of the building?" Hermione suggested.

Harry frowned for a moment, then looked up to where Hermione was staring intently. "That could be it."

Ron looked around, seemed satisfied that they were still alone and lit his wand with a stronger light and directed the narrow beam onto the cornerpieces of stone. "It looks like they have a ringed area to them. Do you reckon one of those rings is the hidden horcrux?"

"Yes, I do," said Harry confidently. "I'm sure of it, and I think it's one of the ones on the right hand side." Ron moved his wand light to the righthand side. "I might be imagining it, but the ring on one of those looks thicker...it's casting more shadow and..." Harry was cut off from what he was going to say when they heard a shout in French and bobbing lights in the near distance coming towards them.

"Quick, run through the building out of sight and get back to the field," said Fleur. "It's the police! RUN!"

Every member of the group had a racing pulse and their hearts were hammering inside their ribcages. As soon as they got to the other side of the building they all Disapparated back to the field. Hermione turned as she left and caught sight of two bobbing lights approaching and the flash of reflective tabs on the people's clothing.

They all got back to the field, although Ron ended up in the middle of a shrub and had to disentangle himself. The others, from various parts of the field, all began to walk over to Ron, deciding that the shadows and cover of the trees and shrubs was a good place to be.

"What the bloody hell happened?" asked Ron.

"It was the police," explained Fleur, out of breath. "I expect they were patrolling and saw the lights. Bad timing."

"Thank goodness for your quick reactions, Fleur," said Bill. "I'm not sure how they'll explain our complete disappearance to their superiors?!"

"They won't," said Hermione. "On night shift, in a cemetery? With no proof? Everyone will think they've got easily spooked and are seeing things!"

"Let's use the tent," said Bill. "I don't like being out in the open."

"Yes, I wouldn't want to risk that those officers are really competent and check around the outside of the cemetery," said Harry.

Hermione retrieved the packed tent from her beaded bag and within minutes Bill had not only constructed it but also cloaked it and warded their area with protective charms. The inside was invitingly comfortable, like an old cottage's living room. Fleur immediately sat down on an old saggy sofa and put a hand to her chest, continuing to breathe heavily, which Hermione felt, before she saw it.

"Fleur?" asked the brunette, softly, as she sat next to her. "An ache?"

Fleur nodded. "I think it was that sudden need to run and the shock of it all. It's winded me slightly."

Bill came over to them and crouched in front of his wife, and got hold of her hand. "Are you in pain?"

"No. Only those small aches and pains I told you about, that's all," replied Fleur.

"I think you should lie down and rest," said Hermione. "It's getting late anyway."

"Everyone all right?" asked Harry, as he saw Bill and Hermione looking concerned around Fleur.

"Yes, but I think Fleur should rest now," explained Bill, then he quickly added, "You go with her, Hermione, as you've been dealing with this longer than me. What's the sleeping situation with rooms, Harry?"

Harry had a quick look around into the sections of the magical tent and it's reality-defying internal dimensions. "Looks like there's three bedrooms with two beds in each. And a bathroom between two of the rooms."

"That works out fine," said Bill. "Hermione and Fleur take one, and we'll sort ourselves out for the other two."

As quickly as that, Bill, Hermione and Fleur had sorted out their sleeping arrangements with very little fuss and no need to explain any strange reactions to those arrangements.

Fleur rose slowly from the sofa and walked tiredly with Hermione in the direction of the bedrooms, and briefly Bill held Hermione's arm. "Let me know if you need anything, yeah?" he said, with much more meaning than the polite sentence portrayed. If Fleur became ill he wanted to know and help and Hermione nodded her assent.

The younger woman stopped. "What time are we going back tomorrow?"

Everyone looked to Harry. "I suppose early would be good."

"We'd miss some of the tourists," agreed Hermione. "There might be a guide or gardener around, but I'm sure we can keep an eye on them, or distract them, while others deal with retrieving the horcrux."

"It had better not be too early, and I think we should enter by the proper entrance too," said Harry.

Hermione brought out the little cemeteries guide book and flicked to the Béthune page, to see if there was any information for visiting times. Not seeing any, she flicked to the front and saw a general guide. "I think it's open in daylight hours. So, perhaps 8.30am?"

Harry nodded. "Everyone else okay with that?" Ron and Bill agreed. "Everyone set alarms for before 8am so we're all ready."

"See you in the morning," said Hermione, as she turned back to the now exhausted Fleur.

The two women walked into the first bedroom area, with Hermione closing the thin door behind them and thinking to quickly cast a silencing and locking charm, in case one of the men accidentally took a wrong turn from using the bathroom, or in case something they said was overheard. Hermione then cast a charm on the two single beds to make one comfortable-sized double and sat next to Fleur on the side of it.

"I _am_ okay," said Fleur. "It was that running and the shock of thinking we'd be caught by the police and then need to explain things."

"I think all of our hearts were pounding then, so no wonder you feel worse than us."

"We slept a few hours this afternoon, it's silly needing to sleep again so soon."

"It's probably our body-clocks telling us it's bedtime, whether we need it or not," said Hermione. And as if to prove her theory she failed to stifle a yawn. "Wand-flick-into-sleepwear?"

Fleur gave a little laugh. "Yes, that would be fine."

Hermione rummaged in her beaded bag for some shorts and tops for them to sleep in and flicked her wand to change them both into the clothes. She then pulled out an old-looking alarm clock from her bag and set it on a table in the room and flicked her wand again to set the alarm for 7.50am, before she threw back the sheet and climbed into bed, patting the place next to her for Fleur to join her.

Once Fleur was in bed, Hermione pulled the sheet and a blanket over them, leaned over and gently kissed Fleur on the lips before settling beside her, with an arm lightly draped around her waist, and the Frenchwoman laying a hand on top of that arm contentedly.

During the early hours Fleur had awoken and became aware she had rolled slightly in her sleep and her hand was on Hermione's breast as the brunette slept on. Feeling slightly mischievious, Fleur lightly rubbed her fingers back and forth over the girl's nipple, wanting to laugh as she felt the nipple pucker and harden. As much as she wanted to take things further and stir the younger woman from her sleep, she settled back down; had Hermione awoken she would have been too tired to do anything else, so she went back to sleep, wearing a smirk.

The alarm went off at 7.50am, although Hermione was awake a couple of minutes before it went off, almost anticipating it. Fleur moved and stretched an arm as she woke up too.

"How's your chest feeling?" asked Hermione.

Fleur put on an amused expression, got hold of one of Hermione's hands and placed it on her chest. " _You_ tell me?!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, then rolled on top of Fleur, laying both hands over the blonde woman's breasts, through her T-Shirt. She leaned down and gently kissed Fleur on the lips, before sitting back. "You know what I mean?!"

"I do," replied Fleur. "I'm okay, at least I think I am. I feel better and not tired like I did last night."

"That's good," said Hermione. "We'd better get dressed and see if the others are up yet."

That morning, Hermione would have given anything to have been back at the cottage and given the time to make love with Fleur as they had been so accustomed to doing lately, but the day was starting and there was no time to indulge in such things.

A short time later, after trips to the bathroom and getting dressed and briefly chatting altogether, as everyone took turns to freshen up, and then have some cereal bars - which Hermione had got into a habit of carrying in her beaded bag...just in case...for which they were all thankful - they carefully ventured outside the tent to be met by a cloudy, drizzly, damp day. They had opted to wear a mixture of shirts and jeans, with Harry and Bill wearing a light jacket.

The tent was taken down in a few quick swishes of Bill's wand and then, happy that they were not being watched, he removed the cloaking charms and they returned to the regular muggle world.

It was a reasonable walk around the outside of the main cemetery to get to the proper entrance to enter the military cemetery. They saw only one man standing at one of the civilian graves, dressed smartly and possibly visiting a grave before going to work. He looked up as they passed but was soon focused back on his loved-one's grave.

As the group entered the military cemetery, they briefly had to get their bearings, as they were arriving from a different direction and in daylight - albeit cloudy drizzly daylight - and everything looked slightly different. The building was straight ahead of them and they tried to walk at a casual pace towards it. Movement at the corner of Hermione's eye made her turn and she saw a man with a small wheelbarrow walking down a line of the graves, before he stopped to kneel and pick up some loose leaves and dead heads from a flowering shrub in front of one of the graves. He briefly looked up and saw the small party of visitors, nodded and raised a hand in greeting, to which Hermione and Fleur nodded and smiled back.

"Gardener," said Hermione in a low voice, as Harry had turned to see why the two women had slowed.

"It must be a labour of love," said Harry. "To work out in all weathers."

The light skidding drizzle finally stopped, leaving the overcast grey clouds and a general feeling of damp air, as they walked up to the building. After having seen whom it was that had distracted the women, and that it was only the cemetery gardener, Harry only had eyes for the finial-like structures on the tops of the outer pillars of the building, with particular intense focus on the two on the right-hand side. He wished it had been sunny, because he would have had more chance to see any difference in the shadows cast about them, but even without the sun he could see where a circlet or round-shaped item could be placed and hidden from all but the most knowing of eyes. And with two on the right-hand side, he wouldn't have a hard job finding which one it was.

Bill and Fleur decided to walk back a bit from the building, and using the cemetery book, as though they were looking at it together, they were both actually keeping watch, so that the other three could work on locating and removing the horcrux.

"The gardener is on the other side of the cemetery, still," said Bill. "He's also facing the other direction now too."

Hermione looked to Harry and Ron. "Ron, go out to the right side of the building, just to make sure no one is coming from a different direction to take us unawares. We should be able to cover the back and left side from here."

"Righty-ho," said Ron, as he walked around the right side of the building and stood a little away from it, keeping watch on the perimeter of the cemetery wall that side.

"Should we try a levitation spell and hope something moves?" asked Harry.

"Worth a try," said Hermione. "Hopefully those bits of architecture are secured well and we won't be lifting a great lump of stone."

"Everything, all clear?" Harry asked Bill and Fleur over his shoulder.

"Yes, everything's the same," said Bill. "Hurry up if you're going to do this, there is only so much fake book-reading a couple can do!"

"All right, here goes..." Harry carefully pointed his wand at the top of the pillars, to the ringed areas of the stone decorations, and used _Wingardium Leviosa_ on the first of the two. Nothing happened, except a small amount of dust and a bit of damp moss rising then falling.

"Has to be the other one, then," said Hermione, feeling anxious, and wanting to get this part done as fast as possible.

Harry repeated the spell and for a moment he thought he was only going to be rewarded with more moss and lichen debris, when they heard a soft scraping noise. Harry looked at the ringed section of the stone and, putting a bit more effort into the levitation spell, he could actually see the ringed area separate and some of it rise from the stone.

"That's it!" said Hermione. "Quickly, get it down and then we can be gone."

"I'm trying, Hermione, but it's probably been there years, and it's a little welded with moss, it's going to take a couple of attempts."

"Still clear?" Hermione asked over her shoulder.

"Yup! You'd soon know if it wasn't," said Bill, cheerfully.

"I think I'll have to get the thing to wiggle a little, to free it," said Harry, tension in his voice. Again he used _Wingardium Leviosa_ and when he was sure he had the item in the spell's grasp, he did try to move it side to side and small movements up and down. He tried again to wiggle the ringed area and felt he was near and it had definitely risen slightly more than before.

"Nearly..." But Harry was cut off from finishing his sentence and quickly shot his wand up his sleeve.

"Well, hello, again," said a man's voice, followed shortly by the appearance through the left archway, of a familiar-looking older man.

"You're...you're from the Menin Gate?" asked Hermione, recognizing the man as Rodney.

"Yes, that's right," said Rodney.

"We were...we were looking at the building and admiring the architecture," said Hermione, pointing to the roofline and to a couple of features, hoping that her 'pointing' looked like that was all they had been doing before, and would cover up that Harry had in fact been using a wand.

"It's wonderful, isn't it? Many war cemeteries have similar features, but each have their own style that sets them apart," said Rodney.

At that moment Ron appeared. "Where did...oh, hello," he said, when he also recognized the man. Ron looked a little worried that the man must have come from the left side, or from the back side of the building, as he hadn's seen him approach.

"So you took my advice to try here?" asked Rodney.

"We haven't been here long," said Harry. "We've only got as far as the building."

"Is it the one you were looking for?" asked the guide.

"I think so," said Hermione. "It looks right. I didn't think we'd see you here?"

"From time to time we identify soldiers who have thus far been buried as 'unknown'. Relatives research their family and with all that science technology, we can sometimes prove whom the individual was. Anyway I come back to this cemetery, which is close to my heart, if a new gravestone is being placed, to check the specifications, or to attend any dedication ceremony and relaying of the stone."

Bill and Fleur had been astounded to hear voices behind them and turned to see the man they had met the day before for themselves; they walked a step or two closer to join in the conversation if needed.

"You were looking for Granger relatives, if I remember correctly?" Rodney asked Hermione.

"Yes," the brunette answered. "We haven't got as far as looking at the gravestones yet."

"You need not all come along, but I can show you where a Granger is, which might be of interest to you."

"I'd like to see," said Ron. "I'll go with you."

Rodney looked at the red-haired youth for a moment, before nodding. "By all means."

Hermione glanced to the others, who all looked a bit surprised, but she took the decision to go with the guide, thinking perhaps with herself and Ron distracting him, and asking questions about the grave he was taking her to, it might be enough time for Harry to complete his task.

"We won't be long," Hermione said, as she turned to walk off in the direction Rodney had gone, towards the Great Cross area. "Perhaps you can finish up here?" she suggested, with widening eyes to get her message across.

As Hermione and Ron walked with Rodney, he told them about some of the visitors he had seen and the countries they had come from. "We get them from everywhere," he said. "New Zealand, South Africa or Scotland, there's always a descendant that eventually finds their way here."

"It must be interesting and enjoyable to work here?" offered Hermione.

"It is," said Rodney. "I like to be helpful, although some would class my work as somewhat dark."

"I can imagine that some people get very emotional."

"Yes. They often do. All part of the job."

The trio reached a section of graves, a little beyond the Great Cross, and Rodney stopped, counted a few gravestones, then looked back the way they had come, with Hermione hoping he wasn't going to see anything when he looked back at the others, before he turned and counted a couple of rows.

"Ahhh, yes, it's...this one," he said, as he directed a hand to show the stone for Hermione to read.

"Middlesex Regiment," read Hermione, below the carved cap badge emblem. "Private Arthur Cardy? Err, that's not a Granger?"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," said Rodney, then he smiled. "You're right that's not a 'Granger', but there again, you and your friends are not visiting graves, are you?!"

"What do you mean?"asked Hermione, feeling a nervous tug in her stomach.

"I was told one of you might come looking eventually, and you made it easier for everyone by bringing _all_ of you," continued Rodney. "Alain knew who you were and as soon as you said your name he knew to find me."

"What the bloody hell...? said Ron, before he was cut off, when Rodney raised his hand and for some reason this silenced Ron and gave him a sort of passive expression, and he was staring blankly at the gravestone, now.

"I...I...," tried Hermione, now feeling slow herself.

"Lost for words, for once? I was told you might have me tied up in words and spells by now. 'A tricky little bitch', I was told, although I suspect my information could be out of date by now..."

Hermione drew her wand, not knowing exactly what was happening, but that Rodney was not all that he seemed, and that meant he must have used magic, or even hypnotism, to have silenced and pacified Ron; she would have to deal with showing her magical presence to a muggle, later, if she was wrong.

"Ahh there we are. She's drawn her weapon!" And with a fast flick, Rodney had taken Hermione's wand. "Not nice to point at people!"

" _Who_ are you?" asked a stunned and more fearful Hermione. She tried to think and send some strong emotions she thought Fleur might pick up on, but everything was happening so fast and she felt so slow, as though she was sinking in tar.

"All in good time," said Rodney, who was himself pointing Hermione's wand at its owner. "Now: I could try to charge the cavalry and compulse you all to get the thing, and then risk failure if one of you gets lucky, and I'm told you're _always_ bloody lucky, so we'll do the best thing, as originally planned...yes...bring them to us. Always follow 'Plan A' first and not get distracted. Paper and pen?"

"Paper and pen?" asked a confused Hermione.

"Oh for goodness sake! I wish people wouldn't go so dumb on me when I cast a light sedation charm!" said an annoyed Rodney. "I want you to write a message."

It then occurred to Hermione why she hadn't fought back, or was able to strike with anything: he had cast a charm on her that was acting like a sedative, not as passive as Ron, but giving the same hopeless situation. Deep inside she wanted to feel panic to alert her partner, but on the outside she could hardly function and in her sedated state she couldn't even feel Fleur. She found a pen and paper from her bag, in her pocket, and copied down what Rodney wanted her to write:

 _'Bring the item you seek. I know you have it now. Bring it to Little Hangleton, to the big house. If you don't bring it, you won't see your little friends again. You have one day."_

"No name?" asked Hermione with her foggy brain. "If they don't know who you are, they might think it's a hoax, or someone else playing a trick or...And you seem to want the...the thing?"

"You don't know?"

"No, I've never met you before, not until yesterday."

"I suppose you wouldn't have. I'm Rodolphus. Rodolphus Lestrange."

The surname pierced through the fog to Hermione's very spine as realization fell. She had thought he was dead, or still in Azkaban, but obviously not.

"Write the name!" said Rodolphus impatiently. He then grabbed the paper and magically pinned it to the gravestone of Arthur Cardy.

He roughly got hold of his young captives and looked back at the others, of whom Fleur was looking intently in their direction and was beginning to walk towards them, obviously feeling at least something odd about Hermione. Lestrange waved a mocking wave and then Disapparated, taking Hermione and Ron with him.

Before they left the cemetery, Hermione could hear Fleur shouting, and felt a small, sharp pain within herself. At that moment she wasn't concerned about herself so much as worried about Fleur and what this might do to her.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Fleur?! What's going...?" Bill asked, as he saw his wife suddenly turn away from Harry retrieving the potential horcrux and yell and break into a run. He saw for himself then: that suddenly Hermione, Ron and the guide had disappeared on the spot. He dashed after Fleur.

The Frenchwoman was frantic, her breathing laboured from having run to the place where Hermione had been standing. She could feel pain in her chest, but ignored it as she looked around and immediately saw the piece of paper impossibly attached to a gravestone. Bill was by her side, a comforting steadying hand on her arm, as he too looked at the paper.

"That's not exactly respectful?!" said Bill, as he used his wand to lift the paper away, careful to use a disarming charm first, in case the paper held a malignant curse. He read the very untidy writing that Hermione had been made to write. "Shit!"

"Is that _all_ you can say?!" snapped Fleur. "He's a fucking Death Eater!" She put a hand to her mouth. "I'm...I'm sorry Bill. I didn't mean to..."

"Hey, it's okay," said Bill, moving his arm around her to support her.

Harry had now joined them, after quickly transfiguring his jacket to become a bag and placing the horcrux inside it. "What's happened?"

Bill gave the piece of paper to Harry. "I know where that place is, but not the 'big house'?"

"It's Tom Riddle's house, where his father lived, anyway," said Harry. "I thought Lestrange was dead or still in Azkaban?"

"I don't think anyone really knew where he was," said Bill. "He probably has everyone he's spoken to under compulsion or at least the _Imperious_ curse, but I reckon he's been in France a while, waiting for any developments, and told to wait for someone - probably you, Hermione and Ron - to show up and get the horcrux. Or another servant of his Dark Lord with new orders."

"Why didn't he just get it himself?" asked Harry, confused how things could have happened so quickly.

"I'm not sure anyone can recognize Voldemort's horcruxes in the way you can, _except_ you," said Bill. "And from what you've told me, maybe only Bellatrix or the Malfoys might know about their existence. And I don't think for a moment that he told each one where they all were or what they were, only one for each and under compulsion they could tell no others. He wouldn't want another Regulus Black, finding out where they all were and destroying him in one go. When you were looking at the building and were certain which side it was, none of us could tell anything about it."

"You know what this means," said Fleur. "Whenever the horcrux was found, it was always going to be taken back to Little Hangleton. That's where 'He' was reborn before."

"Yes, that's exactly why he's gone there," said Harry. "Shit, not again." He then had a flashback to the graveyard three years ago, and how he had witnessed Voldemort become flesh and blood again, _and_ how he had achieved it. His thoughts immediately turned to Ron and Hermione and how they were likely to be used.

Fleur's legs gave way and she found herself kneeling at Arthur Cardy's grave. Bill crouched next to her. "Fleur?"

"We must not let that bastard have the horcrux," said Fleur, in a stronger voice than expected, coming from a now shocked and tired body.

"If we don't go there, then we can say goodbye to Hermione and Ron," said Harry. "I'm sorry to be so blunt, but that's the truth."

"It is," said Fleur. She gave a big sigh. "And I have no intention of abandoning either of them."

"Well, there's three of us...," said Bill, then he looked at the weakened Fleur. "...okay, maybe two-and-a-half of us. If we got the Ministry in on it, we could surround the place and beat old Lestrange to a pulp and..."

"...kill Hermione and Ron instantly," said Fleur, calmly. "He won't want to leave this scene without first inflicting some pain, to payback his failure. Think, guys: Why did he allow Ron and Hermione to go with him and not insist Harry goes with them too? He obviously knew who was who."

There was silence as the two men thought on what had happened only short moments before. "Perhaps he feared that Harry would be able to beat him here? After all he did beat Voldemort?!" suggested Bill.

Harry snorted. "I don't think so, Bill. It's always been luck with me and circumstance, and the Death Eaters and their Dark Lord always kept pointing that out to me over the years."

"It's because...," said Fleur, struggling to her feet again, with the assistance of Bill. "...you know what the horcrux looks like and were able to retrieve it. He couldn't...like you said. Either because he didn't know exactly what it was, or exactly where it was. He also has to be sure it's the right horcrux and not some other Death Eater's horcrux, otherwise there's no point to any of it. He was told it was here and to guard it and..."

"And?" asked Bill.

"Why was he at the Menin Gate?" asked Fleur, suddenly. "How would he know we might go there if he already knew where the horcrux was?"

"We told no one what we were doing," said Harry. "Except Kingsley, but even then he didn't know _when_ we'd be going there."

"You don't think Kingsley is a bad apple, do you?" asked an astounded Bill.

"No, never!" said Fleur. "But that's not to say someone else around him isn't and somehow either overheard something or accessed something, somehow."

"Bloody hell! Are we still having to deal with this shit?!" exclaimed Harry. "I killed the miserable git and he's still snapping at my heels and at my friends' heels too!"

"Fleur, you seemed quite sure of things just now," pondered Bill. "I've known you a long time. Usually when you're that calm you have a plan in mind?"

"I wouldn't call it a plan, only working with what we have," replied the blonde woman. "We have the information we need: he doesn't know exactly what the horcrux is, because he can't feel it until it's in his hands."

"We give him something utterly useless instead?" offered Bill.

"No," said Harry. "I might be able to locate and 'feel' horcruxes, but any magical person can actually feel the _menace_ of one when they hold it. Whatever happens we need a horcrux and I don't plan on murdering someone to create a new substitute one, so it has to be the one we have. As Fleur said, I don't think he knows what the item is, because Voldemort would never trust anyone to tell them the whole truth, just that it was here in the cemetery, but if we handed over any old thing, he would know as soon as he held it. Something tells me a Death Eater would recognize Voldemort's soul."

"Harry's right," said Fleur. "We need to take the horcrux to Lestrange, as he wants. AND...," Fleur spoke slightly louder to go over her husband's protest. "...once we have Hermione and Ron, then we can deal with the horcrux and what he plans."

"This is risky," said Harry. "What if he disarms and disables all three of us? He then has the freedom to use whichever body parts from anyone then!?"

There was a little silence for a few moments, as all three of them were thinking hard, trying to find some solution. Fleur then nodded to herself.

"...which is why I will be there, with an inverted charm, which protects me but is invisible to other magical people," replied Fleur. "It is something useful I heard as a child from one of the veelas, and I'm hoping it exists and wasn't only a tale. If something happens and I feel a charm or curse try to get through, it will look like it has worked and I will act and look as though it has, but I will be immune...or at least that is what I assumed when I heard about it all those years ago."

"I never knew you could do that?" said Bill. "You didn't try to do that at Hogwarts, when you were ill. I've never heard you talk of it before?"

Fleur sighed again. "I didn't use it because I was too ill and I've never tried to use it before. I don't know exactly _how_ to use it, and from what I did hear, all those years ago, it puts an incredible strain on the user and drains the energy from the person, which is why it's probably only ever been used in extreme cases. If it does indeed exist."

"This is all fine," said Harry. "But even if we _are_ successful and get the horcrux back, I don't have anything to destroy it with. I was hoping Hermione might have had a stray basilisk fang in her beaded bag from before. I have nothing. It wasn't important before, how quickly we destroyed it, only to retrieve the horcrux, but now it's vital it's destroyed as soon as we can."

"Godric Gryffindor's sword worked before, didn't it?" asked Bill.

"Yes it did, and would again," said Harry. "However, we can't risk a trip to Hogwarts to collect it, or trust someone else to. Even if it was one of your family, we can't be sure that they're not all being watched. We can't assume that Lestrange is working alone."

"I know we need to work on this fast," said Fleur. "I don't like being here any longer than we have to. I think it might be best if we went to my Grandmother's. I need her help, to ask her about the charm I mentioned, and she might even be able to help us with other ideas."

Fleur saw the slightly bemused and apprehensive look that passed over Bill's face. "We don't have a choice," she said firmly. "You've met her before, you both have. And her house isn't really close to other veela houses; you'll be fine."

Harry and Bill exchanged a glance and a raised eyebrow, but as time was not on their side, they held Fleur's hand as she Side-Along Apparated them to her grandmother's house.

 **A/N: Arthur Cardy's grave is real. If you want to know more about him, have a look on the Commonwealth War Graves Commission website. He has no connection to me, but was the grave I decided to pick from the plan of that cemetery. I do have a cousin ancestor buried in that cemetery(died of wounds in 1917), which is why I chose it for the location.**

 **No harm was done to any grave in the making of this fanfiction. :)**


	19. Charmed

19: Charmed

A very tired Fleur entered her grandmother's house via the kitchen door, not wanting to Apparate directly inside and scare anyone, especially having Bill and Harry with her.

"Hello?" Fleur called out, on finding an empty kitchen.

"Fleur?!" Aimée appeared from the doorway to her workroom, wiping her hands on a towel. She saw her granddaughter sit tiredly on a chair at the table and then saw she had Bill and Harry with her, but not Hermione. "What's happened?"

Fleur put a hand to her head and was mustering the strength to tell her grandmother about Hermione and Ron, when Bill answered for her and both he and Harry explained the events at the cemetery. Very soon, Aimée had also taken a seat, next to Fleur. She took her granddaughter's hand and placed her other hand against Fleur's head, using her limited powers of medical observation.

"Is she okay?" asked Bill, noticing that his grandmother-in-law was obviously checking on his wife's health.

"Yes, I think so," replied the older woman. "She's just tired."

"Grandma, I need your help," said Fleur.

"I'm not sure how I can help, my dear," said Aimée. "I have no experience with horcruxes. If you want me to come along for extra help I will do so..."

"I need your help to teach me a charm," said Fleur.

"What charm?" asked Aimée, cautiously.

"An inverted protective charm. The one that protects and makes the user immune to harm, but is invisible to others." When Fleur saw her grandmother shake her head, she added, with conviction, but in truth she was using a lot of hope that it did indeed exist at all, "I know it exists. I heard about it when I was younger."

"That as it maybe, I can't help you with it."

"Can't, or won't?" questioned Fleur.

"Can't, and even if I could I would never teach it to you."

"Even if it might save Hermione and Ron, and might save us from Voldemort ever returning?"

"You don't understand," said a sad Aimée. "It's rarely been used. No one uses it. And few would choose to even if they could. It takes so much out of the person using it and for you, my dear, dear girl, it could be very harmful."

"Who knows about the charm?" asked Fleur, then gauging her grandmother's face as she continued, naming some of the veelas she knew in the community. "Natalie? No. Marie? No. Stefanie...ahh, so she isn't only a good healer?"

"She will give you the same answer as me," said Aimée.

"Grandma, what happens to me, in my current health, if Hermione dies?" asked Fleur, hearing Harry take a breath after she had said it.

Aimée's eyes went wide. She had only just realized the exact implications. It told Fleur all she needed to know.

"It's simple, then," said a calm Fleur. "I either risk dying from trying to save Hermione using the charm I so badly need to use, or I risk dying by letting her die."

"I'll call Stefanie," said a very sad and resigned Aimée, as she rose and walked into the other room to use the special phone the veelas all had.

"You might die if Hermione dies?" asked Harry. "I didn't realize this unbreakable vow, or healing thing, was that deeply connected?"

Fleur nearly blurted it out to the young dark-haired man, that she was very deeply connected to Hermione because they were in love and bonded, and all but married, but she didn't have the opportunity to think on it further as her grandmother returned to the kitchen.

"Stefanie will be here, as soon..." Aimée didn't get to finish her sentence as a cracking noise in the doorway of the back door announced the immediate arrival of Stefanie. "That was quick?!"

"You don't tell me what _you_ just did and expect me to come along when 'I've got a moment'?!" said a bemused and equally worried Stefanie.

"You know what I need to know?" asked Fleur. "And you'll tell me about it, so I can use the charm?"

"If only there was some other way...," said the older blonde woman.

"Well there isn't," said Fleur. "We could go in as we are, but if we're all put out of action then there's no one and not only do we all probably die, horrible deaths, we also allow Voldemort back into the world."

"Couldn't one of us be taught to use the charm?" asked Harry, indicating himself and Bill. "I mean...we're not linked to Hermione, we're healthy and..."

Stefanie shook her head. "You need to have some veela blood, as part of the concealment is connected to what we are."

"We don't have much time," said Fleur. "Please just tell me - _teach_ me - what I need to know."

"Can we use a room upstairs?" Stefanie asked Aimée, and when her friend nodded she turned back to Fleur. "Firstly, I want to check on your healing, and then...then I'll teach you what you need to know. You're a fast learner so I don't think you'll have any problems performing the charm."

Fleur stood up. "When I get back down here, we'll go," she said to Harry and Bill. "I know that time is limited with this."

In the bedroom Fleur had used before, she sat on the bed, as Stefanie sat on a chair opposite her, and reached out with her hands to place them on the younger woman's temples, searching and feeling for the state of Fleur's health. After a few minutes she sat back.

"Everything okay?" asked Fleur.

"Yes. You are still weaker than is ideal but, yes, you are currently in good health, except for your worry and desire to be with Hermione again."

"To be expected. So, please teach me what I need to know."

The charm was a simple variation on a combination of other charms that Fleur already knew about and had used, but she had never ever considered using them together; the way she had to use them was the difference and her veela blood would add the final element needed for such a charm to be woven and to work. Stefanie let her try to cast it, and told her to immediately lift it again, so as not to drain her energy before it was really needed. Those short few seconds for Fleur had felt like she had legs and arms made of lead, and she supposed it was a taste of the possible fatigue she might experience. She thought back to all the trials of the Triwizard tournament, and how tired she had been at times over the past few years, and even how she had functioned while her body was trying to shut down so recently, and she knew she could, and _would,_ deal with it.

"I wish there was another way," said Stefanie. "But to do nothing is as much of a risk to one so newly bonded, with the problems you had, as it is to try the charm."

Fleur sighed. "It's only a small part of things. This might all be for nothing and we might still have to try and kill Voldemort and a whole horde of Death Eaters, for all we know."

"If you have the horcrux, then you can stop it?" asked Stefanie.

"We have nothing to destroy it with...well, not that we know of."

"You need something different to destroy horcruxes, don't you?"

"Yes. I'm not an expert on them, but from what I've heard the only guaranteed items to destroy them are: basilisk fangs and the sword of Godric Gryffindor."

"I've done a little reading and research on them since your last visit, when I heard all about Hermione's challenges with the awful things," said Stefanie. "I think I might have an option for you...it might work. Only 'might'."

"You own something? Like a fang?" asked Fleur, now sitting forward alert.

"No, I don't own it, but it's very old and has legendary status and some might say mystical too. It could be the thing _if_ you can access it."

"Well, what is it? _Where_ is it?"

"Close you eyes," said Stefanie.

"What?" queried Fleur. "I don't have time to take a power nap or..."

"I know," said Stefanie seriously. "Close your eyes, and find that field in the warm sun. Feel those grasses, see the church and walk to it..."

Fleur knew immediately to take herself to her calming relaxing place and when Stefanie asked her to go inside the church, of which she now knew it to be the original old church of Sainte-Catherine-de-Fierbois, she felt a tingle of excitement. As she was asked to walk up to the altar, her breathing quickened, when her eyes fell upon a sword on the altar, in a red velvet and cloth-of-gold scabbard, she gasped: it looked a little like a sword she had seen in this world before, and her eyes flew open.

"'Her' sword?" asked Fleur, nearly breathless. "It exists?"

"Yes," said Stefanie.

"But...but the church will have changed from how it was in Joan's time, and surely someone would have moved it to a museum, or stolen it by now? Or perhaps it's even just vanished to time?"

Stefanie slowly shook her head. "The outer church might look different but the altar is exactly where it has always been."

"Is it the veela equivalent of Gryffindor's sword?" asked Fleur. "Only for those who have a right and a need for it?"

"Something like that," said Stefanie. "I do not know for certain that it will destroy the horcrux, but I would say it's very likely. It appeared in that place when Joan needed it, and allowed her to send someone to collect it for her. It was with her most of the time, and she survived life-threatening injuries on the battlefield with that at her side. I truly believe it will help."

"Have you ever seen it, for real?"

"No," said Stefanie. "I have spoken with only two people who have seen it with their own eyes, but I have not had the need to seek it myself."

"We'll have to go there straight away," said Fleur, standing up.

Stefanie suddenly engulfed Fleur in an embrace. "When you're done with everything, come back here. You _AND_ Hermione, come back here, because you will have need of me. This is such a dangerous course you are taking, whatever happens, and you will need healing again. Not healing of the heart, but of the body. This charm can leave a residue in your body and it needs to be removed."

Fleur stepped back from the taller veela. "I promise. I'll come back here to Grandma and you and I'll have Hermione with me."

They both went downstairs again. They had been gone about twenty minutes, which had felt much longer to Harry and Bill, the latter of whom looked as though he had been pacing around the kitchen nervously.

"Everything all right?" asked Bill. The question was tinged with the unspoken words of another half a dozen questions with it.

"Yes. I can use the charm," said Fleur. "However, we need to make a small detour."

Harry's head shot up from where he was sitting at the kitchen table, resting his chin on his hands. "Where? Why?"

"We need something to destroy the horcrux," said Fleur. "And I think I know where to find such an item."

"Fierbois?" Aimée asked Stefanie. "The sword?" The taller veela nodded her head.

"What sword?" asked Harry.

"A sword not unlike one you've used before, except this one is connected to Joan of Arc," said Fleur. Harry and Bill looked astonished, and both were on the verge of voicing a cascade of questions which she prevented. "I can't explain it all to you, but Joan has a connection to the veelas. Anyway, we need to get there now and get this whole thing started. And hope that it will appear for me. Can we Disapparate from here straight into the church?" Fleur asked Stefanie. "Is there somewhere unseen and better to aim for?"

"It would be best to aim for a small courtyard at the back of a building on Rue Boucicault...it's a few hundred yards from the church. There's a house there, used by an old veela who likes to be close to the church."

"Same lineage?" asked Fleur.

"Yes, though Catherine rarely comes back here these days," said Stefanie, with a quirk of a smile. "What age was she, when we last saw her, Aimée?"

"Oh, that would have been three years ago, when she visited Natalie...er...124, I think she said. I don't think anyone knows for sure," said Aimée with a smile of her own.

"Whew!" exclaimed Bill, then quickly added, "We don't have to speak a password to her, or complete some challenge to be allowed the sword?"

"No, she will not hinder Fleur," said Stefanie. "She has a habit of knowing when people have need of the place and doesn't interfere when the person is genuine."

"That's where we'll aim for, then," said Fleur, imagining the church and being so many yards away from it in a small courtyard.

Fleur hugged her grandmother and Stefanie again, and Bill and Harry were surprised to also receive supportive hugs from the two older women. As Stefanie hugged both in turn she whispered to each of them, "Make sure both Hermione and Fleur come back here as soon as possible. It might be vital, and Fleur might be too tired to remember, or unable to tell Hermione to do it." Both men had merely nodded.

"I think we can do this. Hands everyone," said Fleur.

Bill and Harry gave a wary look to each other and then held Fleur's hand as she Side-Along Apparated them to the place they needed to be, to find a possible solution to their horcrux-destroying problem.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ron and Hermione sat in different, old, musty armchairs, their hands and feet tied and attached to the chairs. Both were only slightly relieved they could sit down, as their comfort was very low on their list of priorities. Oddly their captor was almost pleasant to them. He had left them for a time and they both wondered if he was setting up wards and charms around the house; they both hoped he wasn't calling his Death Eater friends to join him and was working alone. Finally he came back into the room.

"It's nothing personal to you two," said Rodolphus, as he sat in another chair opposite them. "I know you've both been a pain in everyone's arse, but this is really about the Potter boy and the Dark Lord."

"What if he doesn't come here?" asked Hermione, carefully, unsure if speaking would end in some kind of painful punishment.

"He'll be here," said a confident Lestrange. "Heart of gold, that one. Nah, he won't leave his friends to rot. And the thing is, I think he's always had an obsession with the Dark Lord and..."

Ron snorted. "Yeah...right! You're mental if you think that, you're..."

"A mouth is open that should be shut!" said the older man, and with a flick of his hand he had snapped Ron's mouth shut, causing the red-haired man to yelp as he bit the end of his own tongue, but found he was unable to speak another word, only suck on his sore tongue.

"How long...?" began Hermione, but was interrupted.

"How long before I kill you?" asked Rodophus. "All depends, doesn't it?! I said a day, but I might be more lenient."

"I...I was actually going to ask, how long you'd been working at the cemeteries in France and Belgium?"

"Oh. Nearly a year," replied the man, and in a very conversational tone he continued, "I was freed from Azkaban and, after Dumbledore had been dealt with, I was ordered to infiltrate the cemeteries and wait. I had messages long before what happened at Hogwarts, to say I might be needed."

"Do you know what it was we were looking for?"

"The Dark Lord's horcrux."

"Why...why didn't you get it yourself? Why wait for us?" asked Hermione, wondering how far she could continue talking before she too was made to bite her own tongue.

"I wasn't told what it was, just where it might be," replied Rodolphus. "And there's no need to look so smug. The Dark Lord has his reasons and who am I to question what he does and doesn't tell me. But if your little friend is thinking of handing me any old piece of crap, I'll know. There's no way a Death Eater could _NOT_ know they were holding the Dark Lord's soul."

 _Harry, be careful!_ thought Hermione. She knew Harry, Bill and Fleur would try to rescue them, it wasn't in any of them to leave their friends and loved ones in enemy hands, but she hoped that they were all thinking of every possibility, like they always had.

"Did you ever try to find it?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Of course I did! I spent many a night searching through enough coffins of skeletons to last a lifetime, wondering if an object or bone was a horcrux. Never found a thing, except rags and soggy bones."

Hermione frowned. "I presume the police never disturbed you, the nights you were looking?"

"Police? What police?!" He grinned. "Only police searching in that place at night are mine to control."

"Oh...," Hermione considered, then said with realisation. "Oh?! That's how you knew we were there. They _were_ police but...working for... But what about the gardener...we saw him..."

"One of mine too," replied Rodolphus. "Under a bit of compulsion, as you can never be too careful, but mine all the same." He went silent for a moment or two then, and Hermione remained quiet as well.

"Who did it?" Rodolphus said suddenly, in a very soft voice, several minutes later. "Who killed my wife?"

Hermione deliberately avoided looking at Ron in case it gave away that it was either him, or one of his family. "I don't actually know. The battle was chaos all over Hogwarts."

"Did you see it?"

"No. I...I only heard that she'd been killed," said Hermione, continuing to be vague and having to swallow the rising bile in her throat: a reaction to thinking of Bellatrix she hadn't had to face for a few weeks.

"I bet it was that bitch, McGonagall!"

"I don't know," said Hermione.

"You don't care anyway!?" said Rodolphus, raising his voice. "I heard that she had you and what she did to you. Maybe you deserved it? Maybe you didn't!? War is war! She was my wife, and I loved her!"

Hermione said nothing, because her captor would know any words of condolence would be false and she couldn't even bring herself to say anything. She glanced at Ron out of the corner of her eye, and he was looking incredibly pale, his fingers were flexing and feeling at the material of the armchair he was tied to. Once again she swallowed, but kept silent.

"She wasn't always the way she was, you know?!" Rodolphus continued, standing up and going over to the fireplace, picking up a small, and very dusty, ornament of a rather green-looking cat. "Our marriage might have been arranged by our families, but I grew to love her almost instantly. She was so bright, and vibrant...so..."

 _Crazy, deranged, psychotic!_ Hermione thought, as she listened to the Lestrange man almost tell them a love story, of his early married years with Bellatrix. She was nearly tuning out to him and remaining passive, until something drew her back.

"...and then I lost her," said Rodolphus. "After what those bloody aurors did to her. She was never the same."

"Wh...what happened?" asked Hermione, nervously, unsure if the man had meant to ramble on and talk as much as he had, and that her asking might break the mood and anger him.

"They tortured her, the bastards," the older man said, his voice wavering. "Banned curses! Banned-bloody-curses! Didn't follow their own rules. The Dark Lord got to her in time, but she was not my Bellatrix any more. I still loved her...always will." He slammed down the green cat ornament back onto the mantlepiece, causing a puff of dust to rise.

 _So it's fine for a Death Eater to use a banned curse, but aurors are meant to use only bogey hexes?_ thought Hermione with derision.

At this point, Hermione was glad that Ron couldn't speak, because she was sure he would have made some wise crack, which would have ended badly, for both of them. Instead she averted her eyes and looked down, knowing it was better to say nothing again, but to look subdued by what she had heard.

 _Fleur. I need you, now, more than ever._ Thought Hermione.

XXXXXXXXXX

Fleur, Harry and Bill arrived in a very small courtyard at the back of an old-looking house; exactly the type of place the Frenchwoman had imagined. She turned to look around at their surroundings and to check their safety while the two men were shaking off the effects of Side-Along Apparating.

"And you are?" asked a voice behind them in French.

Spinning round, Fleur saw a tall woman with long white hair, tied back in a plait, which was draped over her right shoulder, standing in the doorway of the building. "Are you Catherine?" she asked in French. _124?_ She thought. _Doesn't look more than 50!_

"I am," said the older woman.

The younger woman walked forward and held out her hand, which the older woman held between both of her own soft ones and briefly closed her eyes, before smiling and then leaning forward to kiss Fleur on both cheeks.

"You're Aimée's granddaughter! You are most welcome," said Catherine. "You are not here for me, so let me lead you to what you seek."

"Are we far from the Church?" asked Fleur, slightly amazed how the woman knew who she was.

"No, just a few steps."

"Everything okay?" asked Harry, stepping forward, not understanding any of the French.

"Yes," said Fleur. "This is Catherine and she's going to take us to where we need to go."

Catherine guided them through her house to her front door, which opened out on to a narrow street. She turned left on the narrow pavement and walked forwards, Fleur at her side and the two men following. All of them were amazed at how agile their veela guide was.

Within moments Fleur gasped at what she saw: opening out in front of her was a wider area, or plaza, and there standing, with the sun bouncing off every angle, was a bronze statue. It was Joan of Arc.

"My dear, you are now in Place Jeanne d'Arc," said Catherine, smiling.

"What is it, Fleur?" asked Bill.

"It's a statue of Joan of Arc," replied Fleur, then she turned to Catherine and said in French, "I don't see the church, is it much further?"

"This way," said Catherine, taking Fleur's hand and crossing the road, going along in front of some buildings.

The small group walked past the buildings and came to what looked like a driveway, and as they turned, they could see a very quaint old church, almost hidden behind a square of houses and buildings.

Fleur felt goosebumps on her arms. "I had no idea. It doesn't look exactly like...like..."

"Like the visions?" said Catherine. "No. With time, comes change, but like throwing a stone into a river, the stone might be forgotten but it is always there underneath, however much the blanket of the river changes over it."

All four of them walked into the church, which was thankfully empty. They had been fortunate that not many of the townsfolk were wandering around outside either. It was cooler inside and incredibly peaceful. They walked towards the altar, but just before they reached it Catherine asked Fleur to ask the men to make sure no one saw what they did next. Harry kept his eye on the areas to the sides of the altar and particularly on a side door, and Bill kept an eye on the rest of the church for anyone entering.

Catherine and Fleur walked around the altar and Catherine flicked her hand to roll back some red carpet. There was bare stone underneath. Fleur had expected there to be a trap door handle, to some forgotten crypt, or at least a hiding place, but there was nothing and no sword.

"Where is it?" asked Fleur, wondering for a moment if Catherine was not what she seemed and was in fact a danger.

"You have nothing to fear," said Catherine, sensing the tension in the younger woman. "You have a need. If your need is enough, you will have what you seek. Now, you need to concentrate and make your case to the sword."

A few weeks ago Fleur would have almost laughed at the absurdity, and despite what her partner had seen, she knew that Hermione would definitely be laughing at the situation and calling into question the validity of the whole thing.

 _Hermione,_ thought Fleur. Her chest gave a resonating ache. _Hermione, I will find you and I will not let anything happen to you. I promise. Now, I need to think about..._

"Ahh. There we are," said Catherine.

Fleur's eyes flew open. "But I haven't started to think about..." She stopped, for there before her was a sword on the stone floor. "I never even..."

"Whatever you were thinking about, just now, was enough," said Catherine, softly. "If you have even greater need beyond that, it was never going to fail. Go on, pick it up."

Fleur crouched and timidly put out her hand to the sword; she half expected to feel nothing and for her hand to go through it, like a ghostly apparition, but her breath caught in her throat when her hand felt the solidness of the sword. She stood up slowly, looking at the sword, at its red and cloth-of-gold scabbard, looking as bright as if it had been made yesterday and not hundreds of years ago. The quillons of the crossguard had gilt-tipped ends and the hilt was wrapped in tan leather with an ornate round pommel.

"Go on, look at the blade," prompted Catherine.

As if the sword and scabbard were made of chocolate and might melt, Fleur delicately slid the sword from the scabbard. The small amount of light in the church bounced off the blade, with not an area of rust to be seen. As Fleur looked at this weapon of legends, she looked at the fullered centre groove and there along the length were what looked to be five crosses. She turned the blade in the light and saw on closer inspection they were...

"Fleur-de-lis," said the older woman next to her. "Seen as both crosses or fleur-de-lis, both of which were important to Jeanne. For France and for God."

The younger woman felt a small shiver go through her. _Hermione!_ Thought Fleur. Somehow everything about her, and even her lineage, linked her to Hermione, even down to the cute name the brunette had called her when they were intimate with each other. Her eyes filled with tears as she beheld Joan of Arc's sword and what it all meant. She blinked to clear her vision, then wiped her cheek on her sleeve and regained her composure.

"It is a rare thing," said Catherine. "I have seen several of us over the years with the best of reasons and intentions, for wanting and needing the sword. For love; to impress someone and exaggerate love; to prove something; to save a herd of sheep from a dragon or such, but very few, and I mean _very few,_ have ever gone so far as to hold the sword like you are doing now. Some glimpse it but never get to hold it."

"Most people fail?" asked Fleur.

"Yes. Your reason must be worthy."

"I believe it to be. I'm hoping to save my soul mate, my true love, and I'm hoping to stop something terrible from happening to the world at the same time."

"Worthy indeed."

"If I succeed, do I have to bring the sword back here or...?"

"When it has done the work you require, it will find its way back," said Catherine. "I feel you will succeed. You have something about you which is different to most of the others."

"I hope so," said Fleur, as she slid the sword back into the scabbard, then put a spell on her jeans' pocket, so she could slide the sheathed sword into her pocket, ready to use when needed, but neither visible nor cumbersome to her. "I would love to stay longer, but we really need to go. We may not have much time."

Catherine put a hand on Fleur's shoulder. "My sister would have been proud."

"Your sister?"

The older woman smiled. "Of course. All of our line would have made her proud."

Fleur looked at Catherine open-mouthed, realizing just what she was saying. "But...but they said you were only 124 and that was a couple of years ago?!"

"A lady always lies about her age when asked!" Catherine gave a little laugh. "And others like to make fun about it. I give them a different figure every time!"

"How?" asked a totally flummoxed Fleur.

"I do not know how," said Catherine. "Only that I retrieved Jeanne's sword and brought it back here, to at least save some part of her that I was unable to do with her body and soul, and something in me and about this place changed me. And here I am. Don't think of me as trapped. I am very fortunate to see so much, and to see so many of us, even those who fail. I don't believe she ever really knew her true potential, but it was in her, like it was in you and me, and our mother."

"How has your identity been kept so secret all this time?"

"No one sees the need to talk about me beyond their meeting with me. The few I have revealed myself to don't break that confidence, as I know you will not either. It's hardly a secret, but something people seem to want to protect me with."

"You have my word, although I would love to tell my partner, but she wouldn't breathe a word of it."

"Now you must go. I hope we meet again," said Catherine, kindly.

The younger woman turned to look at Harry. "I've got it, we had better go. Thank..." Fleur stopped in mid sentence. She had turned her head again and had intended to thank her guide - whom she now knew to be, incredibly, Joan's sister - but there was no one there. _She must have Disapparated._ She thought. _I never thought they'd have magic as well as veela blood. Maybe that's what she meant about Joan. Maybe she could have been magical but never lived long enough to find out. Or did things she thought happened for other reasons?!_

"Everything okay, Fleur?" asked Harry. He didn't look that concerned and obviously thought the older woman had Disapparated too. Bill turned and saw that Catherine had gone and joined the other two.

"Yeah, I have the sword, concealed in my pocket, so we're all set. Let's get to Little Hangleton," said Fleur, feeling immeasurably stronger just by knowing what was in her pocket. Whether the sword worked or not became less of a worry to her, because if it had felt her need, then it must have felt what she needed it for: to her, that almost confirmed that it would destroy a horcrux and help her protect Hermione and all the people she cared about.

XXXXXXXXXX

A few hours had passed since Hermione and Ron had been kipnapped by Bellatrix Lestrange's husband. So far, except for a painful tongue for Ron, neither had been touched or harmed by Rodolphus and he had even helped them drink some water from a cup. He had briefly gone out of the room to check on the windows and doors around the house, confident that the magical ties he had used would be enough to hold his captives where he wanted them. And no doubt he wanted to check the wardings on the house, to prevent intruders from being able to attack him unawares.

"Ron, whatever you do, don't say anything to him," whispered Hermione, desperately. "Don't let anything he says provoke you."

Ron flicked his head and raised his eyebrows, looking incredulous. It was then that Hermione realized that a spell was still preventing him from speaking. In some ways that solved her fear of Ron saying something rash, but also meant any talking was up to her.

"Still here?" asked Rodolphus, knowing the answer before he even walked back into the room. He was sounding a bit irritable for the first time. "No sign of your chums yet. It would be awfully boring if they decide to leave you here, after all."

"They might think it's safer," offered Hermione.

"They'd let you, potentially, suffer torture and die, and not even try something tricky to get you back and keep the horcrux?"

"If it's for the greater good, then I'm prepared to die for it," said Hermione, her voice strong and confident. "And they know that. Ron is the same."

"Death's not always quick, my little poppet," said Rodolphus. He had his wand in his hand and flicked it, making Hermione feel her jaw clamp shut, and then she felt the pain in her joints. Her eyes bulged, giving the only indication to the other two in the room that she was in pain.

 _No no nooooooo!_ Hermione thought, recognizing the _Cruciatus_ curse immediately. Sweat began to pour from her forehead and she shivered, twitching against the ropes that held her. Ron's eyes were frantic, seeing what was happening to his friend and being unable to even say anything, let alone _do_ anything, to prevent it.

Then just as suddenly the pain was lifted and so was the magical gag. "You see? It can last a long time before the body has had enough," said Rodolphus, matter-of-factly, as if he was a teacher showing a new charm to the class. He inflicted the curse again, watching Hermione with curiosity, before he removed the curse once more. "I think Bellatrix's record was eleven days, before the heart finally gave up."

Hermione was panting and her whole body was tense from the pain and anxiety she had just experienced. "De...death is never easy," she replied, trying to control a shiver.

"You've killed several people, then?"

"No. But the human body will always try to survive," said Hermione, deciding to fall back into her knowledge and facts, a place where she would find the most comfort at this moment. "And some might say it is a flaw, in not knowing when to lie down and back away."

"You're sounding a little like a fan club for Gryffindor worship?!" said their captor, laughing.

"Every person has it in them," said Hermione. "Muggles too. Actually muggles more than most."

"Well, _you'd_ know all about that?!" said Rodolphus grinning.

"Why did you become a Death Eater?" Hermione asked suddenly. Ron's head turned quickly to look at the brunette and then at their captor. At that moment he was wishing he could tell Hermione to shut up.

"I was offered something better than what I had," said Rodolphus, plainly. "A better deal than what my life was going to be. Some of my friends had already joined and I could see how much they had changed for the better: so much more confident and powerful, learning magic from the finest wizard the world has known. At 16 I had few choices, by 17 I had respect, admiration and a _lot_ more choices."

"And it never bothered you, having to take orders to maim and kill other people?"

Rodolphus frowned. "In this world, at any time, there are always two orders of people. The conquerors and the conquered: the conquerors have to conquer the conquered to attain their goal. It's not to say the conquered are worthless, they just have a different piece of the life-puzzle to play with."

"I'd call that troll logic," said Hermione. She immediately wished she had said nothing, as she felt a brief streak of pain go down her spine, back up and then settle in the base of her skull. It was so painful that her head dropped, with her chin on her chest, and she passed out.

"She reminds me of my wife," said Rodolphus to Ron, with a wry smile. "Always says the first thing that comes into her head, whether it's the right moment to say it or not."

XXXXXXXXXX

Fleur, Bill and Harry had Apparated to the edge of the graveyard at Little Hangleton, which wasn't a pleasant place for Harry to return to, but it was essential to find out if anyone else was lurking there, as before, and from there they could make a careful approach to the house.

There were no signs of any other Death Eaters in the graveyard, at least, and none along an overgrown path they chose to take to the house, which would conceal their presence. Harry tried to keep his thoughts in the present and be aware that this was a new situation and not like the last time he was here.

They were near a side door to the house, with no sign of anyone guarding it. They knew that it was likely the house had been warded and their presence would trigger an alarm to alert their enemy, and it was here they were counting on Fleur. They didn't yet know for sure if there were other Death Eaters in the house, but were beginning to feel that it was Rodolphus alone, for now.

"I'll cast the charm before we enter," said Fleur. "And remember, if I appear to be out of action I should not be and will only be acting. Providing the man is working alone, which seems to be the case, we'll assume he'll disarm us when we enter the house, or that we're prevented from using any magic when we enter. When he has his hands on the horcrux I will strike, as I should be immune to any magical blocking spell too, and once he is stunned, Bill will have charge of him and I will destroy the horcrux with the sword. We just have to hope the others are okay."

"Agreed," said Harry. Bill nodded his assent.

Taking a deep breath, Fleur cast the veela charm on herself. Her feet felt heavier and so did her arms but she was determined to get used to the feeling. "Let's move in now."

Bill cast some normal protective charms, in case the door was rigged with any nasty surprises, before they opened the door and walked in. Immediately they heard a sort of wailing noise, which reminded Harry of the noise they had heard in Hogsmeade when he, Ron and Hermione had entered the village before the battle, only not as loud. Harry tried to move a rug with a quick levitation spell, but nothing moved. It appeared that on entering the house they had walked into a charm that prevented their ability to use magic: a blocking spell. So for the moment they were mere humans, except for Fleur, but she wouldn't show her hand yet.

A cracking sound in front of them then revealed Rodolphus Lestrange. "I knew you'd come." He saw Harry's wand in the young man's hand. "A little stick now, isn't it?" He laughed.

"If we are to hand over the horcrux we want to know that Hermione and Ron are okay," said Harry.

"This way," said Rodolphus, letting his new arrivals walk in front of him down a long hallway to the room at the end. As Fleur and Bill were entering the room, Lestange attacked, dropping them to the floor, winded and at his mercy. "Oh come on! This isn't one of those stupid chivalric muggle movies! You really think I'd let you walk all the way into this room before handing over the horcrux?!"

"We thought you'd get it any way...and...and that it wouldn't hurt to ask to see our friends," said Bill, panting and coughing, trying to get his breath back.

Fleur had dropped to the ground when the others had. In truth, she had felt as though she had been punched and was genuinely winded, but knew that she was very much able to act when needed. She still had her wand, as Lestrange was convinced they were useless in the house, which would make things easier for her. What threw her concentration a little, was seeing Hermione slumped in an armchair.

"Oh she's all right," said Rodolphus, noticing Fleur lying on the floor looking worriedly at Hermione in the chair; with the charm she had cast she couldn't feel Hermione's presence properly and couldn't detect any pain she might have. "Sooo...," he said, rubbing his hands together, "...it's in the bag, is it?" He picked up the bag Harry had created from his coat, and which Harry could not prevent being taken from his grasp.

Rodolphus took the bag to the large table in the room and opened the tied top; he felt inside and then grinned, as his hands felt something solid. A stone and iron circlet. He pulled it out of the bag, and held it reverently in both hands, his eyes closed. He felt whatever it was he needed to feel, or sense, about the item and carefully placed it back in the bag. "I never would have guessed. Would have saved a lot of coffin rummaging at the cemetery!"

As Lestrange was looking at the horcrux, Fleur leaned up on one elbow and carefully reached with her outstretched leg and foot and kicked Hermione's leg. She did it a few times and the brunette stirred. Hermione looked around and saw the new arrivals, and was not relieved at what she believed she saw: all three of them seemingly dealt with by Rodolphus. Ron's eyes were wide again, part of him angry at how stupidly his friends had blindly blundered in. The only positive thing he could think of was that, if there was torture and death involved, then he was with some of the people he loved the most.

"Time to call the others, I think," said Rodolphus, almost to himself. He patted the bag and then rolled up a sleeve and revealed his Death Eater Dark Mark tattoo, as prominent as it had always been. He was about to point his wand at it, when his wand flew from his hand and he felt something whack him across the back of the head, blurring his vision. He felt it again and before his vision blackened completely, he saw the blonde woman he had disarmed earlier, standing up, tall and strong and casting curses and charms at him. He slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Fleur worked fast, lifting the curses and charms that had disabled Harry and Bill and with Rodolphus unconscious it was easy to lift the charm he had placed on the inside of the house, which had blocked everyone else from using magic. She asked Bill to deal with Rodolphus, while Harry removed the charms on Ron and Hermione, so both were free of their magical and physical ties. Hermione ran the couple of steps to Fleur and hugged her. Fleur turned to look at her, and smiled tiredly.

"I have some work to do, then I'll be with you," said Fleur. She was so happy to see Hermione, but was already feeling the inverted charm, she had cast upon herself, beginning to drain her reserves of energy. "Does anything happen when destroying a horcrux?"

"Sometimes a nasty vision tries to confuse you, but if you keep thinking about destroying it, you'll succeed," said Hermione. "That's if we have anything to destroy it with?"

"Hopefully we do," said Fleur, as she carefully drew Joan's sword from her pocket, taking the blade from the scabbard in doing so.

"What is...? Where...?" Hermione asked.

"I'll tell you later," said Fleur, smiling. "I promise. Harry can you put the horcrux on the table and make sure it's the right thing and he isn't playing games too and switched it?"

Harry reached into the bag and retrieved the very plain circlet - stone around a metal inner structure - which was nowhere near the level of craftsmanship that the Ravenclaw diadem had been, and perhaps it was this plainness that Voldemort had counted on when concealing it. Or perhaps it was his first attempt, before desiring more important objects to turn into horcruxes.

"It's the horcrux," said Harry. "We'll stand back."

Fleur glanced to Hermione, as she felt the younger woman leave her side, relieved to have got to her before anything really bad had happened to her. Fleur raised the sword in both hands, the weapon feeling ten times heavier than it had earlier and she started to feel an old familiar pain in her chest and stomach, but with a strained burst of energy, she whipped her arms down, crashing the sword through the stone and iron circlet. The vibration of its unexpectedly firm construction ran up Fleur's arms, giving her pain that spread from her hands - holding the hilt of the sword - up to her shoulders and down into her already aching chest.

With another draining effort, Fleur brought the sword down on to the horcrux again, as wisps of smoke hissed from it. The horcrux cracked with fissures, the hissing finally rising up into a loud wailing noise. Instinct told Fleur to hit the horcrux a third time, which she did with one last effort, and as a result the horcrux exploded, making an inhuman noise, and it blew Fleur back several feet against a wall, the shrapnel of iron and stone flying after her, as if the horcrux knew who had killed it, and there she went very still.

The very few pieces of horcrux on the table were now nothing more than crumbs of stone and slivers of iron. "It's done," said Harry, after inspecting the few fragments and feeling no presence of Voldemort anywhere. He slumped his shoulders in relief. "It's finally over."

"Fleur?! Wake up!"

The three men in the room all looked behind them to where Hermione had gone to Fleur. They rushed to her side.

"She's...," Hermione, holding Fleur's head in her lap was desperately trying to wake her. "...she's breathing, but she won't wake up. "

Bill knelt beside his wife and put a hand to her neck to feel for her pulse, and he could feel it was slow and weak. As he looked down at Fleur he could see little black bruises along her arms and as he watched, he could see blood starting to dribble from them, and the light blue shirt she was wearing had red marks appearing through the fabric too. "She must have been hit by the shards from the horcrux."

Hermione carefully picked up Fleur's left arm and ran a finger over one of the blackened, but bleeding, bruises. "I can feel something under the skin." Remarkably Fleur's right hand still held Joan of Arc's sword, but Hermione at that moment, didn't know the significance of it, only that it was powerful enough to destroy horcruxes.

"We need to get her back to her grandmother's," said Bill, worriedly, but remembering what he had been told. "They told me to tell you that whatever happened you should go to them."

"They knew she'd get hurt?" asked Hermione.

"I think they were more worried about the charm she was using," said Bill, and when he saw Hermione about to ask about the charm, he quickly added, "There's no time to lose. Hermione, I really need to stay here to take care of Rodolphus and see that Ron is okay and no one else is coming after Harry, are you able to take her by yourself?"

"Yes."

"Go. Go now!" said Bill, frantic himself. "I'll join you later."

Hermione held her partner's all but lifeless hand, not even taking the sword from her grasp, and Side-Along Apparated them to Amiée's kitchen. To her surprise, both Fleur's grandmother and Stefanie, with her partner Sophie, were waiting for her.

"We have been prepared," said Aimée. "Quickly, let's take her upstairs."

 **A/N: The idea for the charm was a little inspiration from reading the Wheel of Time books years ago and what some of those Aes Sedai could do.**

 **I'm a bit of a sword nut(proper swords not those Japanese things!), so had to include a sword somewhere, using the fragments of knowledge there is about the possible sword (or swords) Joan of Arc had in her possession.**


	20. Fading Away

**A/N: This chapter might take a couple of reads. I have all these notions which seem fine to my stupid brain, but someone else reading them might not find which planet I'm on. :) Again, this part of the story was planned a while before the earlier parts.**

20: Fading Away

Fleur had been Apparated to the bedroom she had used before and was laid on the bed as Aimée and Stefanie were taking charge of the situation and bustling around their patient.

"What on earth are all these bruises and cuts?" asked Stefanie, as they removed Fleur's shirt.

"The horcrux she destroyed, it sort of exploded and bits flew everywhere, but mainly at her," explained Hermione. "It was stone and metal."

"Those can wait for the moment, then," said Aimée, before she turned back to Stefanie. "We need to know the extent of the damage."

Hermione felt confused: she had just been asked about the cuts and bruises to Fleur's arms and chest, and was told that it could wait, then heard them talking about 'knowing the extent of the damage'. "What...?" she began to ask, but Sophie reached for her hand.

"It's best to stand back for now," the English doctor said, calmly. "Do you need me for the moment?" she asked her partner.

"Not at the moment," said Stefanie.

"Let's go have a coffee," said Sophie to Hermione, giving the younger woman's hand a tug as she turned to leave the room.

"I want to stay here with her," said Hermione.

"I know you do," said Sophie. "But right now, it's really best to let those women do what they have to. I know you know that."

Nobody had talked about the sword and it had quickly been taken from Fleur's grasp and propped against a wall near the bed, and it stood there gleaming, as Hermione reluctantly followed Sophie out of the bedroom door.

A short time later, with a coffee in front of her, sitting at the kitchen table, Hermione was feeling tired, puzzled and worried. Aimée had rushed down briefly, and held up her hand so as not to be delayed, and went into her workroom to fetch a bottled potion, but she was gone as quickly as she had appeared.

"I don't understand what's happening?" Hermione said to Sophie. "I know Fleur will never be as strong as before, after our separation issues, but do you know what's happened? Aside from seeing the fragments of the horcrux flying, and Fleur being blown back, I didn't see that she was badly hurt? I don't..."

"She was using a special charm," said Sophie.

"A charm?" wondered Hermione. "A charm on the sword?"

"Not being magical or veela I cannot explain it very well, but she asked Stefanie to teach her a charm that would protect her, but not be seen by whomsoever attacked her. They would see and think a curse had worked, or hit home - however these magical things work - but she wouldn't be harmed at all. It is something only those with veela blood can use, or it only works for them."

"Hmm...so she did that, knowing that Rodolphus would attack them and probably make sure they were disarmed from the start," said Hermione. "I can see how that is an excellent strategy, but why did she never use it before, in the war? Or did she, and we didn't know?"

"From everything Stefanie told me, it's dangerous to use. It drains the user a great deal, and very few even know about the charm, let alone try to use it, or teach someone else. It leaves a bit of damage; it was explained to me like a scar, but not something a person can see, and Stefanie will have to remove all trace of the charm from Fleur. I suppose it makes the user so drained, it kind of defeats the point of being invincible, if you can hardly stand up, and is probably why it was always unpopular."

"Oh," said Hermione as she thought it all through. "So, in someone as weak as Fleur is now, and she is undoubtedly even more tired from the recent couple of days, it's drained her energy?"

"As far as I can tell, yes," said Sophie. She reached for Hermione's hand again. "You know that Stefanie and Aimée will take good care of her. They know what they're doing."

"I can't believe I was so bloody stupid!" exclaimed Hermione suddenly. "Going to look at a grave with that man...and he just happened to be back there that day...the day after we saw him and he told us where to look for Harry's building?! Shit! We were all so bloody stupid!"

"Well, I don't think you could have guessed this would happen. I'm not sure anyone could have, unless you'd ever seen this Rodolphus man before. Don't be hard on yourself. It's happened and we're here," offered Sophie. "You're safe, as is Fleur, as are your friends. You destroyed what you had to and everyone got away, and hopefully this evil bloke, Rodolphus, is back in magical custody."

Aimée walked into the kitchen an hour or so later and placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Fleur's asking for you," she said.

"She's awake?" Hermione asked, alert and ready to stand and go upstairs.

"Yes, but Stefanie needs to heal her deeper. This will put Fleur into a sleep for a short time as she heals, so please see her now before Stefanie works on her."

"Sleep?" asked a wary Hermione. "What's...?"

"Go to her now," said Aimée. "Then we can talk."

Despite her tired state, Hermione nearly ran up the stairs and went into the bedroom. Fleur looked as exhausted and nearly as ill as all those weeks before and it made Hermione nervous and worried. However, it looked like nearly all the bruises and cuts were already healed with only a red mark here and there on Fleur's arms, to show where they had been. A small tray on the bedside cabinet held some blackened fragments of stone and small shards of metal, which had obviously been extracted from Fleur's wounds, and she was now wearing a clean white T-Shirt.

"She's still herself," Stefanie all but whispered as she waited by the doorway.

Hermione went to the bed and sat on the edge, taking Fleur's hand, which made Fleur smile.

"Don't worry, Hermione. I'm not going to start insulting you this time."

"I don't care what you call me as long as you're okay," replied Hermione, as she interlinked her fingers with Fleur's. "From what they tell me you used a dangerous charm?"

"I could see no other choice," said Fleur. "I couldn't risk that we'd all be made useless, and I thought of that charm straight away. We had little time to think, we needed speed."

"And the sword?"

"It's a long story, and I don't have time to tell you now. It's another veela mystery," replied Fleur, her eyes sparkling with a little amusement at how she knew Hermione would be curious and desperate to know about it all.

"I wish there had been another way," said Hermione. "I wish I hadn't been so stupid and put us all in this position. I wish..."

"Hush," said Fleur. "I love you Hermione. I wasn't going to leave you with that man longer than I had to. Fuck about the Voldemort thing, I wanted to get _you_ back. To get to you before you could be hurt."

"And you did," said Hermione, close to tears. "Surely I should have recognized him before? He must have had his picture in the papers when all the break-outs occurred?"

"Well, neither Bill nor I recognized him," said Fleur. "We should have done from the files we've seen while working for the Order, but he looked different; maybe he was even using a small glamour spell to alter his appearance slightly."

"It's possible," replied Hermione, feeling only slightly less guilty.

"It doesn't matter, now. I couldn't get to you before. But I had to this time. I had to try anything. You are my everything. I'm so glad we got you _and_ Ron out of there unharmed."

Hermione felt a tear drip down her cheek, which she quickly wiped away. "You did. You got to me and I'm here and safe." She didn't tell Fleur that she had had the _Cruciatus_ curse performed on her again, although not to the sadistic extent Bellatrix had used it, but she decided to smile warmly and be reassuring, hoping that her genuine relief at being rescued from that place and her worry over Fleur's health, covered any other emotions.

"They tell me I might be asleep a little while after they heal me and completely remove the charm, so I wanted to see you," said Fleur, welling up a little, then regaining her composure. "There are two things I want you to do for me."

"Anything."

"Retrieve the scabbard for that sword from my jeans' left pocket and place the sword back into it. I didn't think it would still be here, even. I really wish I could tell you all about it, but there's not enough time, so the least we can do is look after it."

"Okay. And the second?" asked Hermione, her curiosity peaked even further by the sword.

"Kiss me," said Fleur.

Fleur raised up a heavy, tired arm to rest on Hermione's shoulder, as the younger woman leaned forward and gently kissed her on the lips. It was a heavenly kiss and both wished it could last a lot longer, but they had to part.

"I'll be waiting," said Hermione. "I'll always be near you."

"I know," said Fleur.

Hermione picked up Fleur's jeans from the chair near the bed and reached into the left pocket and felt the neck of the scabbard. She slowly drew the scabbard out, amazed by the craftsmanship and beauty of it, before quickly placing the sword into it.

Stefanie walked back into the room and rested a hand on the brunette's shoulder. "I really should begin now."

"Of course," said Hermione as she walked to the doorway.

As Hermione turned at the door, to get another look at Fleur, the Frenchwoman said jovially, "See you soon!".

"Remind Sophie I might be a while here," said Stefanie. "I told her earlier, but I like to keep her updated." She smiled. "I'll be needing a good strong coffee when I'm done as well."

"Thank you," said Hermione. "Thank you for taking care of Fleur and me."

"Family always cares for family," said the tall veela as she saw Hermione to the door and then closed it.

It hadn't been many minutes after Hermione had sat back downstairs at the kitchen table, with Sophie and Aimée, that there was a knock at the door. Aimée answered it and found Bill, Harry and Ron on the doorstep; all were welcomed in and introduced to each other, as Sophie hadn't met them yet. Hermione didn't mind that they were there, her mind was trying hard not to worry about Fleur, and Harry, Bill and even Ron were a good distraction. Bill was very worried, but seemed calmed by what Aimée told him and sat down at the table too.

"Are you all okay?" asked Hermione of the newcomers.

"Yeah, not in bad shape, considering," said Bill. "Ron's tongue is going to be sore for a day or two, but if it makes him quieter I'd call that an improvement." He laughed at his younger brother.

"Yeah, well, that guy wanted to talk one minute and the next he shut me up," said Ron, disgruntled.

"I think it was for the best," said Hermione with a grin at Ron, who gave her a roll of his eyes in response. "Is that bloke back in custody?"

"Yes," replied Bill. "At least we know there's no security leak and he was waiting for you at any time, be it weeks, months or years. I think the compulsion thing meant that he wasn't at the Menin Gate much at all, and that Alain bloke summoned him there if he ever came across people fitting our description and asking vague questions, or mentioning any of our surnames. He probably even planted an image of you three into his head so he'd recognize you all. I bet he had several cemeteries with his people waiting for us, very likely a whole network, which the Ministry will be looking into."

"Are _you_ all right, Hermione?" asked Harry. "We didn't get a chance to see much of what was going on, but you seemed to be slumped in the chair when we arrived."

"Was I?" said Hermione vaguely, then laughed. "It was exhausting and that stupid man was such a talker it was enough to send anyone to sleep."

"You weren't asleep, though, _were_ you?" said Ron, seriously. "I know what happened."

Hermione became aware of all heads turned in her direction and almost felt guilty, which was silly, because there hadn't been time to say it and she certainly wasn't going to tell Fleur yet.

"What happened?" asked Harry. "What's Ron talking about?"

"Nothing really, no harm done, it...," Hermione tried to say but was cut off.

"He used the _Cruciatus_ curse!" said Ron, angrily. "And I know what it was, from how you reacted. I did a lot of reading on it after the last time. Except this time you couldn't even scream because he'd silenced you. I was wishing he would shut you up because you were almost baiting the bloke, but I never wished that on you."

"He was just showing us he was boss," said Hermione, still trying to deflect it all and not really wanting to be reminded of that all too familiar pain and the memories that went with it.

"He _used_ the _Cruciatus_ curse on you!" said Ron more adamantly.

"Is this true?" asked Harry.

"Well...all right...so he did," admitted Hermione.

"It's bloody unfair and wrong," said a still angry Ron. "He does it, after making us want to puke, talking about the love of his life, who just happened to be that nutcase Bellatrix, who used the same bloody curse to torture you."

Hermione shivered, unable to stop her whole body shaking. "It's...not...the...," she shivered again. "No..." she said, realizing that she was getting a reaction she had long since thought she had recovered from. Her face went very pale, and she crossed her arms in front of herself and tried to hug herself to stop the shivers.

Sophie, sitting next to Hermione, put a comforting arm around her. "Hey, you're okay. We're all friends here."

"Hermione?!" Ron said in concern.

"I...I just need...some fresh air," said Hermione, as she moved away from Sophie, stood up and walked to the door. However, she never got to open the door, as a shiver ran up her spine and the accompanying pain throughout her body and in her head was so bad, her vision blurred and she fainted.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Hermione woke up in bed, still clothed, in the room she recognized as having used when she had stayed at Aimée's before. Sophie was sitting on the side of the bed and Aimée was seated on a chair in the room.

Hermione made to sit up. "I'm so sorry about that."

Sophie pushed her back down. "Easy. You need to rest."

"I'm fine," said Hermione, feeling a few aches but not the extreme pain. "I was tired and being reminded of that...that...thing was a bit much."

"You had the _Cruciatus_ curse used on you, however tamely, by the husband of the woman who had used it for prolonged torture on you," said Sophie, flatly. "From what my Stefanie has said, and Aimée, it is easy to see what happened downstairs."

"How long have I been here?" asked Hermione, trying to move the conversation away again. "Has Stefanie finished with Fleur?"

"You've only been here about fifteen minutes," said Sophie. "You probably need the rest. Why don't you stay here and have a nap?"

"I can't sleep with everything going on," said Hermione. "I don't want to be asleep and not hear the news on Fleur."

Aimée shook her head. "It seems my granddaughter has found a partner who shares her stubborness?!"

Hermione swung her legs over the side of the bed and gradually stood up, feeling fine and not too light-headed with the pain mostly gone; she walked around Sophie towards the door.

"I know you'd be the same if it was Stefanie in this situation," said Hermione to Sophie. "You can't turn love on and off to suit timing or the need for sleep."

"Yes, true," said a resigned Sophie. "But if you feel unwell, please tell us."

"I promise," said Hermione.

The brunette reached for the door handle; the action of reaching for the handle, seemed to make her chest ache, but to cover any sign of discomfort she turned to Aimée and said, "I hope you're going to tell me about...," but she didn't get to finish her sentence. Hermione's eyes rolled up into her head and she crumpled to the floor.

As Sophie and Aimée attended to Hermione, with the latter using magic to lift the young woman back onto the bed, there was a crashing sound and footsteps.

"Aimée? AIMÉE?!" a voice called.

Aimée opened the door and saw Stefanie about to go down the stairs. "What is it?"

"I don't know," said a frantic Stefanie. "Fleur...Fleur's slipping away again."

"WHAT?!" said a disbelieving Aimée. "Sophie, stay with Hermione," she called back as she rushed to Fleur's room.

Inside the room, Aimée was met by the sight of her granddaughter looking colourless and like someone who had been battling a disease for weeks - almost as bad as when she had collected her from England. "I don't understand?!"

"And neither do I!?" said Stefanie, her eyes ready to shed tears. "I've done everything I should have, in all the ways things should be done. I was nearly finished and suddenly she...she...it was like I was holding her hand to stop her falling and was about to pull her to safety when she slipped from my grasp and fell away again. I can't seem to bring her back like before."

"It was only the charm she used? Nothing else?"

"I can't say, Aimée. I really can't say. I don't know," said Stefanie sadly. "And I hate not knowing. This shouldn't be happening. I completely lifted any residue of that charm. We'd better let Hermione come and see her...it might even help if she..."

"Slight problem," said Sophie, who had now entered the room. "I can't wake Hermione either."

"What?" asked Stefanie, completely dumbfounded.

"In muggle terms, she's showing all the signs of being in a coma," said Sophie.

Stefanie sat on the end of Fleur's bed and held her head in her hands. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Is it possible they've both been poisoned?" asked Sophie. "Or cursed in some way that would affect them both?"

"We'd better check on the boys downstairs," said Aimée. "At least Ron, who was there with Hermione through it all. If they are okay then it has to be something else."

" _What_ have you done to her?"

The three women turned to see Bill in the doorway, looking past them at his wife. They let him walk into the room; he knelt beside the bed and reached out a hand to touch Fleur's pallid cheek.

"Bill, we honestly do not know what has happened," said Aimée. "This is unexpected and..."

"It was that bloody charm, wasn't it?" he replied with anger.

"It...it might be," said Stefanie. "We don't know."

They then heard Harry's voice; he was on the landing outside the door, with Ron. "Where's Hermione?"

Sophie turned and walked to them, already seeing that nothing was wrong with the younger of the Weasley men, which ruled out something cast over any of them, and it certainly wasn't poison.

"What have you done to _her_?" asked Bill.

"Nothing...but...," Stefanie faltered and looked at a loss for words.

"She's unconscious," said Sophie, trying to maintain the cool, calm exterior she always had when being a doctor. "Somehow, and we don't yet know why, she's slipped into a coma."

"A coma?" said Harry. "Shouldn't we get her to hospital or...?"

"Normally I'd say,'yes'," replied Sophie. "But we're not sure if this is magical. We can care for her here, I promise you we will, but if it's magical related, then a muggle hospital is not the place for her. And if it's...if it's veela related, then a magical hospital is also the wrong place."

"Can we see her?" asked Ron.

"Of course," said Sophie, as she led Ron and Harry to the room at the other end of the landing, where she had made Hermione as comfortable as possible.

Ron sat on the side of the bed and got hold of Hermione's hand. "Come on, Herm! Don't walk out on us yet. You can't let that bastard win...nor the bitch he was married to."

Harry had moved a chair to the other side of the bed and got hold of Hermione's other hand: it was lifeless and limp. The only signs that Hermione was even alive, were her chest rising and falling and her eyelids occasionally fluttering.

"Will the crap ever stop?" asked Harry, to the air. "When will people stop getting hurt when they try to help me?"

"Oh shut up!" said Ron. "You're always on about _you_ being the cause and _you_ being at fault. Surely you know by now that you're family - you and Hermione - and even if you weren't the Boy-who-bloody-lived we'd still be by your side. We made that pact, whether we wanted to or not, in our first year at Hogwarts. Hermione and me, and all my family, would be on your side whatever happened and whatever it took to get rid of Voldemort. She knew the risks, we all did, and _still_ do."

Harry swallowed, and blushed; he didn't blush from anger but from embarrassment, at the truth of what Ron had said. He had always felt it to be the case where Hermione and the Weasley's were concerned, but to hear it in plain words overwhelmed him slightly.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Harry asked Sophie.

"Yes, there is," said Sophie. "I want to be able to monitor Hermione properly and to do that I need to...sort of... _borrow_ some equipment from one of my hospitals."

"Have you ever Side-Along Apparated before?" asked Harry. "I don't know what it might be like for a muggle."

Sophie smiled. "I'm used to it."

"Okay, then I'm ready to help," said Harry.

"Ron, will you stay with Hermione?" Sophie asked the red-haired man.

"Of course I'll stay with her. I _should_ be at her side...the amount of times she's been there for _me_..."

"Good. If anything happens, or changes, while we're gone, get Stefanie or Aimée straight away."

Ron nodded, as Harry stood and offered his hand to Sophie. "Where are we aiming for?"

"We'll try the hospital at Nancy first..."

Ron had tuned out from what was going on around him, as Sophie gave Harry directions, before a cracking noise told him they had left the room. He looked down at Hermione. Not knowing what else to do, he started talking and, like most things in their recent lives, Hogwarts was mentioned, as he talked about lots of their memories.

"...and I thought I'd never get a pass on any Potions' essay," said Ron. "Thank goodness for Slughorn in the end. Thank goodness for being pals with two teacher's pets that year. It definitely helped, even though the silly old sod never got my name right once." He laughed out loud then as another memory came to him. "Merlin's stinky pants, do you remember when you and Ginny introduced us to Luna...way back...in our fifth year, I think? Anyway you let slip it was Looney Lovegood. Shit, I wanted to laugh so badly! I didn't know where to look. It was like trying to hold onto a fart in one of Snape's lessons! Luna...now there's one of life's mysteries! Mad as a bag of ferrets but brave as anything. She'd been kept for weeks in the Malfoy's shitty cellar, yet seemed to always remain calm and hopeful. She didn't bat an eye when little Dobby showed up to rescue us. Didn't you tell me once, something about madness and genius sometimes being linked? Well, even if you didn't, Luna certainly has heaps of both, but really, what a great friend. I'll never forget her house. It felt weird to be sort of hero-worshipped like that, with those pictures of us, but maybe it was because she really does care about us all. She accepted us as we were. It never bothered her about the danger around Harry, or that you were muggle-born or...or that my family weren't exactly high society. I reckon, when you get better - and you _are_ going to get better - we'll have to invite her over to dinner at the Burrow...maybe Neville and Dean too..."

XXXXXXXXXX

Hermione sat up, feeling slightly dizzy. She blinked a few times to try and clear her vision. She felt warm and comfortable, so closed her eyes again, taking several deep breaths. When she opened her eyes the second time she could see it was a sunny day and that...she was sitting in a field of long grasses.

 _I don't remember thinking of going here?_ she thought. _Did Fleur ask me to, before I went to bed tonight?_

Like the clanging of a bell, it then hit Hermione about everything that had happened. She remembered falling to the floor not once, but twice. But she also remembered lots of different voices, all from people she recognized and she felt a very heavy, almost painful, feeling in her chest. As she thought of Fleur and how her partner was, at that moment, supposedly undergoing healing, the heaviness and ache worsened. She remembered snippets of conversation and that something was wrong with herself too.

 _What the hell happened to me?_ thought Hermione. _I should be at Fleur's side, not collapsing with stupid issues over Bellatrix and that blasted curse!_

As Hermione sat in that relaxing, calming field, she went through everything in her mind to try and make sense of the circumstances and the chronology of events. It was truly hard to work out what was going on. She tried to go back to her body, but it seemed she couldn't wake up and it was like being trapped in a room without the key, so she went back to the field.

She stood up, which was fairly effortless in this world, and looking for the church and finding it, she walked to it, pushed open the door and went inside. It looked empty, except for the altar and a few wooden pews at the sides, which hadn't been clear to her until she had discovered what the place really was. She sat down on one of the pews, and even in this plain of existence, she propped her chin on her hands and her elbows on her knees as she stared forwards.

 _Fleur,_ she thought. _How can I help you? What the hell can I do, when I don't even know what's wrong with myself?_ She looked down, frustrated, ready to cry.

"Hermione...,"

The brunette looked up and then to her side and there was Fleur. She put a hand to her mouth and then reached out to put her arms around her, only to find that her arms went straight through the Frenchwoman.

"What...?"

"I don't know exactly," said Fleur. "I think I'm so ill in the real world that I don't have much of me left to even visit here."

"Do you know what happened to you? Or to me?" asked Hermione.

"Something to do with the charm I used, I think," said Fleur. "I think it drained me beyond the reserves I had, and I have very little to fight with. As to you, I didn't know you were even ill...but as Stefanie was working on me, I felt a great deal of pain and an awareness that I only get about you. Did someone say something to hurt you, or are you hurt in some way, physically?"

"No," said Hermione. Then a thought came to her and she groaned, putting her hand to her mouth again. "Don't say it's my fault again?"

"What's your fault? What happened?"

"I had an attack," said Hermione. "Like after Bellatrix, when I was talking to Ron, Bill and Harry."

"Did those idiots bring something up?" asked a ruffled Fleur, but when she saw Hermione slowly shake her head she said, "Please tell me. Whatever the crazy position we're in, you can tell me anything."

"I...I was going to tell you, but when you were better," said Hermione, as she then explained what Rodolphus had done to her. "And I think it might be my pain that caused you to...to...whatever it is that's happened. You couldn't protect me, even though I'd told you that you had. Somehow you must have felt the lie when I got that reaction again." Hermione couldn't look at Fleur then, she felt so pathetic and angry with herself and also confused and helpless. "I'm so sorry. Why am I always messing things up between us?"

Fleur tried to put a hand on top of Hermione's, but her almost opaque hand went straight through. "We don't know that's the cause, but, Hermione, I don't care how many fuck-ups you've done. I've done plenty of them too. I don't regret any of it and you've been worth every minute."

" _BEEN_ worth?" Hermione's head shot up. "You're talking in the past tense. You're dying?! You can't die. You CANNOT die!"

"It feels like before," said Fleur calmly. "It's something that I can feel, but this time something feels different, a _lot_ different, and I think I know why...Hermione..."

"Please no. Don't give up?! Don't accept it?!" Hermione tried. "Maybe it's different because you're going to fight it back yourself, however weak...you're..."

"Hermione, my darling, I don't know how, or why, but you're dying too."

Hermione was silent, her mouth open, stopped in mid-sentence. " _I'm_ dying? How can _I_ be dying?"

"I don't really know," said Fleur. "Only that, I feel it. Whether you admit it or not, you can feel my pain too, can't you?"

" _That's_ what it was?" said Hermione, moving a hand over her chest for a moment.

"I believe so."

"There must be something we can do?" said Hermione. Oddly she didn't feel worried about herself dying, but was frantic inside about Fleur.

"I can only really guess," said Fleur. "But I think we're the cause to each other. I used that charm and nearly wiped myself out; you were harmed when I couldn't be there; I became dangerously ill and that dragged you down with me, through the bond. I don't know...it's just what I think might have happened. As my Grandma and Stefanie have pointed out, we've never had an easy relationship and even our bonding was a bit intense. It's probably why we're so sensitive to everything, being so recently joined. It might even be why you thought you had a touch of flu after I became ill at Hogwarts - you were experiencing a little of my illness through a bond that had not yet been sealed by the ritual."

"We're killing each other?" Hermione actually laughed. "That's brilliant!" Fleur's form flickered, which stopped Hermione's attempt at light-hearted humour in the face of adversity. "Go back. You're using too much energy."

"I might never see you again, and I'm not sure what comes after..."

"Fleur, we're not going to die, okay?" said Hermione, unsure as to how that was going to work out. "Please, go back, rest and fight...keep fighting. This isn't goodbye and besides, from what Harry says, there _is_ something beyond, so it definitely won't be goodbye."

The blonde woman looked reluctant, but her form flickered even more; she looked into Hermione's eyes, and being unable to hold or kiss her, she blew a kiss, before disappearing back to her ever-weakening body.

Hermione slumped on the pew, despair tearing at her insides. She tried to remain quiet and focused on a floor tile, that had a fleur-de-lis pattern glaize to it. As she focused, she heard Ron's voice droning on. _Is he still talking to me?_ she thought, then found humour again. _He's saying more to me while I'm out of it, than he has in all the years since we started Hogwarts. If I thought he could be that talkative perhaps I should have been seriously ill more often!_

Ron's voice went on at its steady pace. "...Luna...now there's one of life's mysteries! Mad as a bag of ferrets but brave as anything. She'd been kept for weeks in the Malfoy's shitty cellar, yet seemed to always remain calm and hopeful. She didn't bat an eye when little Dobby showed up to rescue us. Didn't you tell me once, something about madness and genius sometimes being linked? Well, even if you didn't, Luna certainly has heaps of both, but really, what a great friend. I'll never forget her house. It felt weird to be sort of hero-worshipped like that, with those pictures of us, but maybe it was because she really does care about us all..."

 _Luna,_ thought Hermione, with sadness, thinking that she might not see the Ravenclaw again, or any of them. _I think I might miss Luna and her theories._

Something peculiar happened at that moment, as Hermione heard " _Luna and her theories."_ echo and repeat all around her. She wasn't sure if it was bouncing off the church walls, or the inside of her skull, but suddenly she remembered standing in the kitchen of Shell Cottage, drying up the dishes after dinner, and talking to Luna. _What were we even talking about?_ Almost as if Hermione had a video in her mind and could pause and rewind, she remembered everything about that moment: what they were talking about, and Fleur making them jump, and then Luna looking at them, as if she knew that Fleur was more to Hermione than a good friend. Every time she wanted to savour that moment of cute secrecy, her mind would jump back to the start again.

After a short time, experiencing this peculiar repeating mental state, Hermione wondered if her living body was entering some kind of delirium before she finally died; but it became clearer what was making her relive that moment: Luna mentioning about her ancestor's diaries, of staying with the veelas, and that it was Fleur's heritage as much as hers.

Suddenly Hermione felt hope, she wasn't entirely sure why, but it had something to do with her remembering Luna and those veela diaries. _Perhaps they hold the answer?!_ she thought. But immediately she felt crushed. _Luna's diaries?! Which are at Luna's house, in England, with Luna, while Fleur and I are apparently kicking the bucket in France!? Bloody wonderful! If only Luna could..._

Then Hermione thought deeply about Luna, more deeply than she had thought about anyone other than Fleur. _Madness and genius,_ she thought. _I might be both at this moment, but if I am, then Luna certainly is, and that means she's genius enough not to shut off any thoughts that come to her out of the blue._

Hermione didn't know precisely what she was doing; she thought of projecting her 'will' and her deepest need, almost like a form of the dark arts of mind altering, and how Harry was linked to Voldemort, all mixed with the kind of hope that only comes when you have no other path to take. _LUNA! DIARIES! BRING THOSE VEELA DIARIES TO ME! BRING THEM!_

The brunette felt utterly exhausted after her mental exertion and actually felt rather silly too. _This is definitely madness, s_ he thought. _Even if Luna can find me, with the diaries, I'm unconscious and can't do anything._ She tiredly shook her head and was about to go back to her body and listen to more of Ron, talking about their school days.

"Hello Hermione. I'm here, but I'm not sure how or why?"

Hermione spun her head, to see Luna sitting next to her. "What?"

"I was looking for some nargles in the garden and suddenly needed a nap. I thought the nargles had cursed me. I went back to my bedroom and now I'm here."

"Are you real?"

"Yes."

"Prove it!?"

Luna slowly moved her hand and with her index finger extended, she poked Hermione in the arm and the older woman flinched, and then she touched Hermione's cheek. "See? I'm real."

"How is this possible?" Hermione was truly at a loss for words.

"I don't know," said Luna. "It's all a bit strange, isn't it?"

Trying to get over what on earth was going on, Hermione asked, "Do you remember those diaries your ancestor wrote, about her time with the veelas?"

"Of course! Oh...I put them on my desk at home, a few minutes ago; there are several of them." said Luna as realization hit her. "I wondered why I was compulsed to rummage in my desk before I had a nap. I thought I was going crazy!"

Hermione laughed. "Oh Luna!" She threw her arms around the blonde woman, then sat back. "To maybe make this faster...um...have you ever read those diaries, all the way through?"

"Several times, actually," said Luna. "I've always found the diaries interesting, in relation to life in general."

"Do you remember anything in them about veelas being bonded? You know, like married, both women, but bonded to each other and maybe one of them not being veela?"

"Ahhh, I thought so!"

"What?"

"You and Fleur!"

Even in this plain of existence, Hermione discovered that she could blush. "Well...sort of...yes..."

"I thought so! I'm so happy for you both. Something hadn't been right about Bill and Fleur, even at their wedding, almost like the wrong smell. It's just a feeling you get, you know?"

"Not really," said Hermione. "But you're not shocked or..."

"Why would I be?" said Luna. "Finding love with anyone, and having it returned, is a happy event and no one else's business, really. After all, it's not like you have to make love in front of the entire village, as they used to, up to a hundred years ago. That's in the diaries. Oh no, they didn't make you...?"

Hermione was pretty sure her mouth was hanging open at this point. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and to negate the question. "The thing is, Luna. I think I'm dying and so is Fleur."

"That's not good," said Luna dreamily, but not overly shocked.

"I'm not really here. 'Here' is a sort of astral projection type of place, where I often met Fleur."

"It's very nice. I've been here before, though," said Luna, looking around. "I had this Great Aunt I used to stay with, after my mother died, and she'd make up all these imaginary worlds for me and ask me to close my eyes and imagine them. I always liked this one best."

Hermione looked at Luna, taking in her very blonde hair and she suddenly saw it, and also what it meant on another level: her friend was from the same lineage, to have visited the church before. "Luna, have you got veela blood?"

"Oh, probably. One can never know these things completely. I always suspected this ancestor. So I probably have a trickle of it...she must have, to have been allowed among veelas like she was. I've never had men swooning around me, but that's just as well, I imagine it gets very awkward having to keep walking around them?!"

"As much as I'd love to talk more, Luna, I may not have much time," said Hermione, trying not to get distracted. "So, about bonding. Is there any instance where something went wrong...um...give me a moment to think this through..."

Going through all of the facts in her mind, Hermione tried to form a concise way of telling Luna everything she needed to know, to see if there was an answer. "Okay...," Hermione began and quickly told Luna about the bond, about Fleur's illness because of their separation, then the horcrux and the incidents up to this point. "I don't know what to do. It must be because we're bonded."

"I don't remember reading anything about a bonding going wrong like that," said Luna. "There was something about a couple who didn't have enough time with each other and one of them destroyed a house, killed a pig and ruined a field of wheat. But it all turned out fine in the end."

Feeling her heart ache and almost sink to her feet, Hermione sighed, "Oh. It was worth a try."

"There was an interesting incident between a mother and daughter," said Luna.

"It's probably not helpful for Fleur and me, as we're not related," said Hermione. "And I know I'm definitely not veela."

"They were sort of bonded, although they were mother and daughter," said Luna.

"A mother's love, type of thing, like with Harry and his mother?" offered Hermione.

"No, not really," said Luna, then she looked at the exhausted Hermione. "Do you want me to go, now? I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I...I hope you don't die. I would really miss you."

"It's all right, Luna," said Hermione, with a resigned sigh, as she sat back in the pew and smiled at her friend. "Please continue. If I don't have long left, then I might as well spend the time with friends I can see _and_ talk to. I can only hear Ron talking back in the real world."

Luna blinked, and her usual calm, fascinated and lively features dropped a little, but she lifted her head again. "Well, there was this mother and daughter. I think it was about 1825, around the time my ancestor was with them. Anyway, the daughter became ill, with some kind of muggle illness that was taking children's lives all over Europe. The mother had lost her husband and her other children a few years before and moved back to a veela community, and her daughter was all she had left and she did something extraordinary: she literally gave _herself_ to her daughter to fight the illness."

"Like an injection of love?" asked Hermione.

"No, an actual piece of her. I suppose most people call it the soul. She somehow gave it to her daughter and that was enough to fight the illness."

"Her soul?" Hermione sat forwards, more alert. "She put a piece of her soul into her daughter?"

"Yes. That part seemed clear, as some of the veelas weren't happy and there were a lot of arguments about it. But the daughter had survived because of what her mother did, and they couldn't really wish her dead. My ancestor helped some of them see sense about that."

"Was there anything else about them, after that?"

"Not on that visit, no," replied Luna.

"Fleur gave a piece of her soul to me, when I was recovering from Bellatrix," said Hermione. "I'm sure that's what helped me recover more quickly. Her grandmother hadn't heard about it before. They didn't seem worried by it, only amazed. Although, they think that it might have made the separation worse for Fleur, and is the reason why she's been slightly weaker ever since."

"That makes sense, now."

"I suppose it does. Giving an actual part of yourself is bound to weaken the person giving it," said Hermione, sadly.

"No, Hermione, it _ALL_ makes sense, now," said Luna brightly.

"What does?"

"My ancestor returned every few years to the veelas and twenty years later, she arrived to find that particular community very much unchanged, except that the mother and daughter were both very ill. The mother was getting older and more frail and was dying from something, and after she took to her bed, her daughter came down with illness too. Nothing was working on either of them. They expected the mother to die, because it was just how things were, but the daughter had been fit and healthy. Then one of the elder veelas said it was all the mother's fault, for giving a part of her soul to her daughter, for when she did it, she had also given her daughter a death sentence. When she ailed, and inevitably died before the daughter, she would take her with her, no matter how fit and healthy the younger woman was. A bit like a diseased part of an apple spreading to the rest of the apple and to any healthy apple touching it."

"What happened?" asked Hermione. "Luna, did they do anything about it?"

"There were tense times, until someone suggested they should try to momentarily kill the daughter and stop her heart, and wait for the mother to die, which she would if her body thought the daughter had died, then revive the daughter, who would now have lost the piece of her mother within her, which had died with the mother, making her healthy again. If you see what I mean?"

"Yes. Did they do it?"

"Yes, and it worked. But the daughter was so distraught that...well, she was found a few weeks later, hanging from a tree in the orchard," explained Luna. "It was very sad and the veelas who had taken charge of the situation, never really got over it. That's probably why none of the veelas where you are even know about it: it wasn't talked about again."

"Did they ever offer a different solution they thought they should have tried instead?" asked Hermione.

"No. There were arguments and everything, but no one knew of another way they could have gone about it."

"Any theories at all?"

"My ancestor had musings about it, and I've often thought on it," said Luna. "I've thought that it all needed to be reset. That by one person having the soul particle, made an imbalance. A little like Harry and Voldemort in some ways."

"Voldemort had to...kill Harry to destroy the horcrux within him," said Hermione. "Which then freed Harry to come back and fight him. Hmm...what if Harry had put a piece of himself within Voldemort, and reversed it?"

"Exactly what I've wondered," said Luna. "I think both would have been dead, or both would have lived, because the Harry particle was unlikely to be a true horcrux, as he hasn't evil in him and hasn't really been in a position to do evil intent, so an accident would have been a good part of his soul...which might well have prevented Voldemort from even being able to kill that part in Harry, whether he knew it or not. He always had trouble trying to kill Harry as it was, but that might have made it impossible. And that would have presented some interesting problems...theoretically, of course."

Hermione was mulling over everything that had been said, trying to make sense of it and if it had any relation to herself and Fleur. She had nothing whatsoever to give her any chance, so this might be her last attempt to try anything at all.

"Luna, I have an idea, but I'd like your thoughts," said Hermione, and when Luna nodded she said, "It's a very fine line and a very long shot and I might need your help, in the physical world."

"Anything I can do, I'll gladly help."

"Okay. So it seems I'm dying, essentially, because Fleur is, and her piece of soul is dying within me and dragging me down. There's an imbalance. Now, it might seem that giving her a piece of my soul is the answer, but that won't work because I'm dying too and so technically infected, so I'd have no effect on her at all. Not positive, anyway. Soooo, what if I died first, letting Fleur die too, then I'm brought back and I ensoul myself into Fleur, the healthy living uninfected me, which would then fight for her and give her the boost she needs to bring her back to health. I'm not sure if she then ensouls me to create a balance or...hmm...it's probably balanced already because I've returned the favour. That last part is a bit sketchy and something I'm not sure of, but the dying and coming back must stand some chance of working?"

Luna had her hands clasped together and her thumbs were spinning around each other, as she appeared to be almost making calculations. She looked up to the roof of the church and then down, put her head on one side, nodded to herself, then answered.

"It's a good plan. I can see how it would work...from all that we know," said Luna. "You're _sure_ you're both dying?"

"Yes. It seems so," said Hermione.

"You'll need people that are skilled with veela and magical medicine to stand the best chance."

"There's a veela called Stefanie, who is a great healer, and her partner is a muggle doctor. And Fleur's grandmother is skillful and Bill, Harry and Ron are all there too."

"If it has a chance, then you have the best set-up," said Luna, cheerfully.

"How can we make sure, during the short time I'm dead, that the soul part of Fleur within me is killed? We have to be sure it's gone, so I'm not just infecting Fleur with the same problem again," pondered Hermione.

"Same as a horcrux, I would think," said Luna. "It would be the sure way of doing it."

"The sword?!" Hermione said, as she saw the beautiful and mysterious sword in her mind. "I think Fleur has a sword that can do that. Oh blast, that's going to hurt and be bloody dangerous!"

"Not if we're prepared and are quick," replied Luna. "Shouldn't even see much of a scar and you might not be dead for more than a moment that way."

"Okay...but you're going to have to explain this, Luna. I'm not even awake. Can you convince them?"

"If you give me something to say that only you would say," suggested Luna.

"I don't exactly have a secret catchphrase," said a worried Hermione. She had felt relief at finding a possible plan, and now felt frustrated that it would never happen because no one would believe Luna.

"It's going to have to be facts that only people there will remember and know," said Hermione thinking. "Say to Harry that I went to his parents' grave with him and that Bathilda Bagshot watched us, before we followed her to her house and she turned into the snake. Tell Ron that I liked his little ball of light. Tell Bill 'I'd never reject her'."

"I can remember that," said Luna brightly.

"Oh shit! Do you even know where to go?" asked Hermione, worried and with her hopes dashed again.

"I think so," said Luna. "I'll just go where you, Harry and Ron are. That's worked before."

"We need to do it now," said Hermione. "There's not much time. Are you ready?"

"I'm always ready for anything," said Luna confidently. "See you soon, Hermione."

The blonde woman disappeared from the pew next to Hermione, and with one last look around the church, some deep breaths and some inner _Please work!_ thoughts, trying to push out some troubling doubts, Hermione returned to her body and found that Ron was still talking to her.


	21. Luna Eclipse

**A/N: I didn't want to leave it too long between posting chapters after the last one, so thought I'd squeeze in this one and not make you wait too long...**

 **I love the character of Luna, but as of yet, I haven't thought of a story where she could be one of the main characters, but she's made appearances in most of my Potter stories(even the ones I haven't posted).**

21: Luna Eclipse

Luna had found herself outside a lovely-looking farmhouse in the French countryside. With her ancestor's diaries under one arm, she had knocked on the door, but when there was no answer she decided to walk in. Hermione had chosen her to help - had literally reached out to her - and Fleur's and Hermione's lives were at stake, therefore the usual courtesy and manners had to be momentarily pushed aside.

She found no one downstairs and climbed the stairs. "Hello?" she called as she reached the landing, definitely hearing voices, but from both left and right. She also heard a rhythmic sound, like a clock ticking, but not a clock. "Hello!?" she said more loudly.

A door that had been ajar opened further and a very tall blonde woman walked out. "And you are?"

"Hi, you must be either Stefanie, or Fleur's grandmother," said Luna. "Hermione has sent me."

"What? Did you arrive earlier? Are you one of her friends?"

"I'm her friend, but I only just got here," explained Luna. "Hermione wanted me to come here, and it's urgent. But together we think we have a plan."

"What? I don't...?" Stefanie was very tired and now she was very confused.

"Luna?!" said a voice from the other side of the landing. It was Harry.

"Hi, Harry."

"You're Luna?" asked Stefanie, and when the younger woman nodded she said, "I've heard you mentioned before. But how are you even here?"

"Hermione called me to the church - you know in that other place." At that point Stefanie's eyebrows climbed her forehead. "Anyway, we talked there, mostly about my ancestor's diaries - my ancestor stayed with veelas regularly and wrote about it - and we have a plan that might work."

"Might work?" questioned Stefanie.

"Hermione told me that both she and Fleur are dying," Luna said calmly.

"How do you know that?"

"She told me," replied Luna. Even the normally docile Ravenclaw was feeling frustration biting at her heels.

"They're _both_ dying?" Harry asked, his throat suddenly dry.

"Okay, let me make this faster," said Luna. "Hermione told me what to say, but I need Bill and Ron here too." Both men were called, although another woman and an older woman appeared on the landing too, whom she didn't know, but assumed the older lady was Fleur's grandmother. Luna then told Harry, Ron and Bill the things Hermione had given her to say, to prove the validity of her appearance.

"All right, we've established that Luna isn't making anything up," said Harry. "I see no reason why she would be, anyway."

"There isn't a lot of time," said Luna. "This is what is happening and what might be the only way to help..."

Luna told them all about the plan and the quick reasoning as to why it might work, as well as her ancestor's input, gesticulating to the diaries she had under her arm. When it got to the fact that Fleur had implanted a piece of her soul into Hermione when she was at Shell Cottage, Ron had been about to say something, but Bill had nudged him and told him to be quiet.

"So, the _plan_ is to kill Hermione with that sword, revive her, as Fleur will be dead, and then Hermione implants a piece of her soul into Fleur to help her recover as we try to revive her too?" queried Stefanie.

"The sword ensures that Fleur's soul particle is killed and can no longer affect Hermione," said Luna."...but it also means both of them shouldn't be dead for longer than a moment."

"What do you think, Aimée?" asked Stefanie.

"If you're asking for my professional opinion, then I have no knowledge of this. If you're asking for my personal opinion then I'm worried, _VERY_ worried...but...nothing we're doing now is making a difference. I would be prepared to try it," said the older veela, solemnly.

"Sophie? What do you think?" Stefanie asked her partner.

" _Me?_ This is out of my league," replied the dark-haired doctor. "I will be there for whatever you think I can help with. It sounds crazy, but I agree with Aimée that it might be the only choice we have, or definitely lose them both. I can certainly help with trying to bring them back, using medicines and equipment I have here."

"Bill?" Aimée asked this time.

"It's madness," he said, but continued. "...but I trust Hermione and I trust Luna. If this is the only way then it has to be tried."

"This has similarities with Voldemort, and my being his horcrux," said Harry. "The only way that problem was sorted out was by death. I don't want to lose Hermione and Fleur, we have to try something and I trust Hermione and Luna too."

"We're all agreed then?" Stefanie asked the group.

"No we're not!" said Ron. "You want to kill Hermione, to kill Fleur, then hope you can bring back Hermione in the hope she can bring back Fleur? It's too many 'hopes'. People wake up from comas all the time, Hermione might too. What if they stay dead...you would have killed them both?!"

"This is like no coma I've ever seen before," said Sophie, and her partner nodded her head in agreement. "We're monitoring Hermione, but all her vital signs are gradually getting worse, with no sign of any injury, or anything obvious that can be causing it. She's dying, as is Fleur, and that will happen unless we do something."

"We have to try it," said Harry. "It will be hard, but we have to _try_. I don't want to see either of them just waste away and we didn't even give them this chance."

Stefanie took that for assent; she didn't give much credit to Ron, and he was in the minority. "I think it might be best if we had them side by side while we do this."

"Hermione's all hooked up to the equipment," said Sophie. "That might be very helpful in keeping track of things, so I would suggest bringing Fleur to her room."

"I'll see to that," said Stefanie, as she went back to Fleur's room.

"I appreciate that you all care and love Fleur and Hermione, but we don't want a room full," said Aimée. "We only need the people actually involved with the procedure. It will be myself, Stefanie, Sophie and Luna. The rest of you will have to wait out here, or downstairs."

"Luna's only just arrived and she gets to go in the room?" asked a very frustrated Ron.

"She's spoken with Hermione, helped create the plan and she has her ancestor's diaries. We need her...besides, she has veela blood," said Aimée, knowingly.

Harry and Ron turned to look at Luna, almost as if she had only just arrived again. "Apparently I do," said Luna. "It's all rather fascinating. But I'm not here for that, I'm here for Hermione and Fleur."

"Well, what about Fleur's parents? Why aren't they here?" Ron blustered.

"There isn't time," said Aimée. "And it was always agreed that I would care for Fleur in veela matters. A message has been sent, all the same."

Bill, Ron and Harry could do very little about the situation and knew they would be tripping over each other in the bedroom, so Bill slid down to the floor and sat on the landing. "We'll be here. Anything happens...?" he asked the unspoken question and Aimée nodded, and Harry and then a reluctant Ron, joined him sitting on the landing.

Luna walked into Hermione's room and found herself feeling very sad to see her friend looking so weak and lifeless, and although she wasn't familiar with muggle medical machines, she soon understood that Hermione's heart rate and other vital signs were being monitored on the equipment, which Sophie had 'borrowed', and that had been the noise she had heard when climbing the stairs.

Stefanie Apparated Fleur, and the sword, the short distance across the landing to Hermione's room and laid her next to Hermione. Sophie was watching the monitor and saw that once they were side by side, Hermione's heart rate quickened and continued to be slightly faster.

Aimée was holding the sheathed sword. "Which of us is going to do this? To be completely honest, I'm not sure I can."

"It goes against everything I believe in," said Stefanie. "I heal. I don't kill...although I know that in this case, to kill might be to heal. In any case I need to be concentrating on the healing part of this and can't do everything."

"I'm not sure I should be using anything magical or veela," said Sophie. "I can help with placement, but not the actual act."

"That leaves me, then," said Luna. The other women looked to her, guiltily, almost ashamed that they were nominating the younger woman by default. "Oh, I don't mind. I told Hermione I'd do anything. It will be odd, but life is full of odd experiences."

"She does also have veela blood, however small," said Aimée, as she handed the sword to Luna.

For a moment, Luna struggled with the balance of the sword, and slowly removed it from the scabbard; even in the lowered light of the room, she could see the blade gleaming and the marks down the fuller. "Oh, this was Joan or Arc's sword, wasn't it?"

"How did you...?" asked Aimée, a fraction of a second before Stefanie was going to ask.

"I don't know. It just looks like it could have been her sword," said Luna, dreamily, unaware of the astounded looks the other women were giving her.

"We're aiming for the heart?" Sophie asked for confirmation from Stefanie, which was given with a nod. "It would be the quickest way. And you're sure you can heal this wound physically?"

"In this case I can, providing it isn't left too long," replied the German veela. "It's risky, but it would be the ideal place to make it quick and for me to heal almost as soon as it's done."

"Yes, it would be very quick," said Sophie, nodding. She looked at her monitor and prepared some things on a table nearby. "I have everything ready that I might be able to help with. What's the exact plan of events, before we start?"

"Aimée, I need you to watch over Fleur...for the...the moment she's gone, after Luna has used the sword on Hermione. I'll be ready to heal her as soon as Fleur has...has...this is _so_ difficult," said Stefanie, putting a hand to her head, before continuing. "I'll be ready to heal Hermione, as soon as you tell me that Fleur has gone. Sophie, be ready to help bring Hermione back and then keep her stable. Your help will be vital in leaving me with enough energy to do what I must. I'm then going to use a variation on the bonding charm to link Hermione to Fleur, to allow her to will herself into her and hopefully ensoul her. I really don't know how it's done, obviously Hermione thinks she can do it?! I'm hoping a bonding charm will help and again Sophie will help things along with bringing Fleur back. And the rest is left to hope..."

"There was nothing specific in the diaries about transferring a part of the soul," said Luna. "I think it is a moment of complete need and it happens because the will is so strong for it to happen."

Stefanie sighed. "I think we should say our goodbyes...just in case."

Aimée touched her granddaughter's cheek and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You aren't going to leave me, my beautiful one. You have so much here for you."

Luna had taken one of Hermione's hands and gently squeezed it. She didn't say anything out loud, but thought as strongly as she could. _"We're going to make this work."_

"Ready?" Stefanie asked everyone, and when she got nods of agreement she said, "Luna, let's start."

"Show me where to place this," said Luna, calmly, as she held the sword.

Sophie asked Luna to remove Hermione's shirt with magic - there was no need to remove her bra - and then with her fingers splayed just a little to the left of the sternum and at the top of the swell of Hermione's left breast, she showed Luna where to place the sword tip, to slip the blade between the ribs and pass into the heart. She indicated that it would be easier for Luna to be at Hermione's head-end of the bed and to push slightly downwards into the heart, for the best effect. "Don't pull the sword out until Stefanie says so," she told the younger woman. "It will act a bit like a vacuum and stop excessive bleeding and avoid extra internal damage for Stefanie to have to heal."

Luna nodded that she had understood; she carefully and precisely placed the tip of the blade on the exact place Sophie had pointed out. She took a deep breath and as she breathed out, she slowly pushed the sword into Hermione's chest.

There was a small amount of blood forming around the entry site of the sword and Hermione's body flinched. Luna tried her hardest not to shake and concentrated on breathing steadily and keeping the sword still. Sophie was looking at the monitor, as Hermione's heart rate went erratic for a few moments and then dropped, along with her blood pressure.

Fleur's body flinched. "She's going," said Aimée, concentrating very hard on her granddaughter's state and trying not to think emotionally, that she was watching and waiting for her to die.

There was a long beeping noise from the machine. "Hermione's flat-lined," said Sophie. "Her heart's stopped."

Within moments Aimée let out a shuddering breath. "Fleur's gone."

Stefanie had been alert, like a cat about to pounce on a mouse, from the very start, and now she was tapping into her reserves, to do what she had to do. She put her hands on to Hermione's chest. "Luna, slowly pull out the sword. As slowly as you can. I'll try to heal everything as you move it back out."

Luna was sweating, from having to hold the sword still, to this now very delicate part of taking the sword out of Hermione's chest. She felt the gravity of the situation more and more with each minute that passed. Gently and slowly, keeping the blade at the exact same angle, she tugged back on the hilt of the sword and felt it slide back.

The German veela had her eyes closed and was muttering, as well as doing whatever it was that veela healers could do. Sophie watched her monitor, still seeing the flat lines and the zero numbers in all boxes.

Another minute and Luna had completely removed the sword; she was expecting the lower end of the blade to be covered in blood and was thinking of using a cloth to clean it, but when she inspected it, the blade was completely clean and gleaming as before. She looked up to see that Stefanie had beckoned Sophie over, so she walked to the side to give them room. Whatever was said, Sophie then got a muggle syringe and injected something into Hermione, before using some strange hand devices, which she placed on Hermione's chest, asking everyone to stand back, which then made Hermione almost jump off the bed. Luna had never seen anything like this. Then suddenly the elongated beep of the machine began to pulse and make a rhythmic sound.

"We've got her back, she's..." said Sophie.

The English doctor, didn't get to finish her sentence as Hermione began to cough. To start with she was coughing up blood, but after a few breaths she asked in a croaky voice, "Fleur? Where?"

"Beside you," replied Stefanie. "Do you know what we need you to do?"

"Yes, yes...I think I know..," said Hermione, coughing again.

Sophie gently wiped the blood away from Hermione's mouth, as Stefanie got hold of Hermione's hand and placed it in Fleur's.

"We don't know how this is done," said Stefanie quickly. "So I'm going to almost bond you again as I try to heal Fleur. And I need you to try hard to put a piece of your soul into her when we have her back."

"I know...," Hermione said, closing her eyes. "We must work...fast."

Stefanie sat on Fleur's side of the bed and reached over to have one of her hands over the couple's clasped ones and a hand on Fleur's chest, as she cast the bonding charm and then quickly moved to healing. She was incredibly tired, but she would happily sleep for a month if it meant bringing Fleur and Hermione back in one piece. The constant beep of the machine attached to Hermione was reassuring, but it was only half of the job done. Now, without the inverted charm and the complication of the soul, Stefanie could actually feel what she needed to feel within Fleur, and felt more confident that it was all possible.

Aimée still held Fleur's free hand, as she knelt beside the bed, trying hard to sense that first hopeful sparkle that her granddaughter had returned to them. Sophie injected into Fleur the same Adrenaline dose she had given to Hermione, to help things along, but she was watching with increasing concern, as several minutes had passed since Fleur had technically died and she was thinking in the muggle world, of people being starved of oxygen, leading to brain damage. She knew this wasn't a muggle case, but she still found it hard to stand back and not be able to do more to help revive Fleur herself.

Another minute or two passed; Luna kept looking from Hermione to Fleur, and then to the other women, while keeping a fascinated glance at the monitor. She still held the sword, which she had placed back into the scabbard.

"Please my darling girl, come back to us," Aimée whispered.

Until Fleur showed any sign of life Hermione could do nothing, but she concentrated hard on how much she loved Fleur and wanted to bring her back, and how much she couldn't bear to think of her partner as dead. _Come on my love._ She thought. _One more battle._

"Well...that was unexpected," said Luna suddenly, not meaning to disturb the room.

"What is it?" asked Sophie, who was the only one free to answer at that moment.

"It's gone," said Luna, looking around her. "The sword was here in my hand and now it's gone...it's very strange I was..."

"There!" said Aimée. "Now!"

None of them needed to ask what Aimée meant and immediately Hermione concentrated even harder. She went through memories of the times Fleur had literally taken her breath away: how she had cared for her after Bellatrix; the moment of utter joy when Fleur came back to her after their separation; the despair of her dying, of her fading image in the church and of wanting to physically put her arms around her; of feeling utterly alone without her and the pain in her chest that it caused to think on all of it. She felt a fierce, tight knot of emotion within herself. She didn't know exactly what she was doing, but she wanted to lift that tight knot of emotion from her chest and give it to Fleur, to show her how much she meant to her, and how badly she wanted her to stay in this world with her.

Hermione only knew that something was happening when the hand that held Fleur's was starting to get hot and the sensation of burning rope was travelling up her arm. She mentally pushed it back down, and imagined sending that burning hiss of sensation over to Fleur, with that knot of emotion, in some hope it would literally ignite her lover. Would it start her heart, or start her soul? She hoped a bit of both.

There was a flinching sensation, like a cat had jumped onto the bed, and Hermione's eyes flew open and then, to her utter joy, Fleur squeezed her hand, not once but twice and the second time it was almost painful, as Hermione's hand bones were squeezed together.

"Fleur?!" Hermione dared to say.

"Herm...Hermione," whispered a weak voice. Fleur was breathing again. "You found...me..."

After a few more moments, Stefanie finally took her hands away, and as she sat back, Sophie rushed round to her and held her upright, as her veela wife had fainted. Sophie had sensed it and had been at Stefanie's side in a flash. She held her partner's head to her chest, feeling emotional. "I think you did it, my love. How is Fleur, Aimée?"

An exhausted Aimée said, "She's back. Very weak, but her life force is steady."

"Let me get Stefanie to a chair," said Luna, as she used her wand to move an old armchair near to the bed and moved Stefanie into it.

Sophie did some checks on Fleur for herself and medically she found a person who was breathing unaided, she had a little bit of a weak pulse, but was most certainly not dead. "I think it worked. I think it really worked!"

Hermione coughed again then. Luna went to her and, with the cloth Sophie had used earlier, she wiped the dribble of blood from Hermione's chin.

"Sorry," said Hermione. "I've asked...so...so much of you. I...I don't want you wiping up...my..dr...drool too!"

Luna laughed and with bright eyes close to tears she said, "You're a genius, Hermione. To see it all at work was a privilege. I'm so glad it worked."

"You might cough a little blood for a few days," said Sophie. "Some probably leaked into your chest after the healing."

"I don't care if...if I'm coughing up fur balls, as long as Fleur's alive," Hermione said, her voice getting stronger. She was serious, but had to laugh at her own strange humour.

Sophie smiled at her. "Ah, well, if you're coughing up fur balls we'll have to call a vet in, won't we?"

"Hermione _was_ a cat once," said Luna, which made Sophie look round at her.

Hermione gave a croaky laugh and a wave of her hand. "A long story! I can't believe you even got to hear about it, Luna?!"

"Ginny told me," said the Ravenclaw.

"Oh. It could have been worse," said Hermione, not caring about the past at that moment.

A couple of hours had passed; the men outside on the landing had been told of the progress, but that it was too early yet, not wanting them to all clamber into the room and crowd the weak Fleur and recovering Hermione. They all accepted Aimée's instructions, with reluctance.

Stefanie had recovered her strength a little, after Aimée gave her a drink with some of the tonic 'restorer', she often spoke of, in it.

"Fleur's getting stronger as the minutes pass," said Stefanie as she looked at her patients. She then gave Hermione a check. They had cleaned up the blood Hermione had spluttered and coughed up, and both women were in clean T-Shirts and comfortable. "Sophie, is that machine telling you good things?"

Sophie checked everything. "Yes. Her blood pressure is a little low but that's to be expected in a situation like this."

"If she were a muggle?"

"Yes. Or anyone else for that fact."

"And Fleur?"

"She seems a little weak to me, medically, but doing well. "

"I've been dying and dead recently, I'd settle for being a bit weaker than normal," said Fleur.

The expression changed on Stefanie's face and she held Fleur's hand firmly. "Don't you ever, _EVER_ , ask about, or use that charm again!"

"Believe me, I don't want to use it again," said Fleur. "I didn't have many options this time, but hopefully there will never be another time."

"I hope there isn't," said Aimée. "I can't see you go through this again and if you _do_ use it again, I'm not sure we'll have anything left to bring you back."

Fleur felt uncomfortable and wanted to change the subject; she looked around the room. "Where's the sword?"

"It sort of disappeared," said Luna. "I was holding it and keeping an eye on it and it vanished."

"Hmm...that's odd," said Aimée.

"No, it's not," said Fleur. "I was told 'When it has done the work you require, it will find its way back'."

"That means...," Aiméé began.

"It means the sword, or the spirit of Joan, knew that it was still needed and now it isn't any more," said Fleur.

" _THAT_ was Joan of Arc's sword?" asked Hermione. "I wish I'd known sooner, I'd have loved a proper look at it."

"So you spoke to Catherine, when you went for the sword?" Aimée asked her granddaughter.

"Yes," said Fleur, already feeling that she didn't want to break a confidance and keep the secret of her identity.

"And you know who she is?"

"Joan of Arc's sister, probably," said Luna. "Her name was reportedly Catherine, I think." The whole room looked round at her in amazement and bewilderment.

"I've given up asking 'how' about this girl?!" said Stefanie, with a chuckle.

"So you all know who she is?" Fleur asked warily.

"Yes," replied her grandmother.

"And you didn't tell me?" asked Fleur.

"It's not for us to say. It's up to the person meeting her, to either guess, or be so accepted that she tells you herself," said Stefanie.

"We'd prefer that it's not spoken of outside of this room," said Aimée, as she looked at Luna.

"You'll have no trouble from me," replied Luna.

"You can trust, Luna," said Hermione. "We all have at some point in the recent weeks, months and years. She's a true friend."

Luna felt like her chest might burst, with a feeling she didn't get very often, which was pride and a feeling of total acceptance.

"You _are_ aware that Luna met me in the church, and she'd been there before, thanks to a Great Aunt teaching it to her?" offered Hermione. "That's where I met her to arrange this...this course of action."

"Met?" said Luna. "I was summoned, really."

"Semantics," said Hermione, simply. "Anyway, that means she's of the same lineage as you three." She looked to Fleur, Aimée and Stefanie. "And I think you'd find some of the things in her ancestor's diaries absolutely fascinating. Ground-breaking in fact...that is...that is if you're okay for them to borrow them some time, Luna?"

"Of course. I've read them so many times over the years. It's only right that the veelas here should have access to them," Luna said, then paused, thinking. "Well, maybe only the people in this room, because there are a few incidents that weren't talked about again because of difficult situations. It was one of those incidents that Hermione used to help with herself and Fleur."

Luna handed the diaries over to Stefanie, who was still wearing a slightly astonished expression.

"So, Joan of Arc's sister helped you find Joan of Arc's sword?!" Hermione asked the room."Is there anything else I should know? Like, the Queen visiting while I was in a coma? Or Wales disappearing under a tidal wave?"

"No, I think you know all about it, now," said Aimee, smiling. "That's enough for a lifetime as it is."

"A lifetime," said Hermione, nearly under her breath.

She turned to look at Fleur, continuing to hold her partner's hand. The Frenchwoman sensed that Hermione was looking at her and turned to look back at her, as the younger woman leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips.

"Oops...sorry," said Hermione. "I hope I'm not all bloody, still?"

"You're not, but I wouldn't care if you were," said Fleur.

"Have I got a scar where the sword went?" Hermione suddenly asked. "I can sort of feel a small tight area, like a bruise, or maybe someone has dropped a rock onto me."

"Shouldn't be much," said Sophie, as she came over and rolled back Hermione's T-Shirt up to her neck, to expose the top part of her chest. "Oh, there seems to be a little bit of a scar."

Fleur looked and ran a finger gently over the healed scar, which was a line of around two inches in length at the top of the swell of Hermione's left breast. "Maybe we can heal that more later?"

Hermione got hold of Fleur's hand and pressed it to her chest. "No. I got that for you. And not only was it a big 'bloody-hell' moment, because it was Joan of Arc's sword, but I'll always think of when I lost you and when I got you back. I'll gladly wear it. Besides it's not like many people are going to see it. I've never been into plunging necklines and flashing cleavage!"

"You died for me..," said Fleur, but she wasn't allowed to feel overwhelmed by it for long.

"Well, technically, _you_ died for me," said Hermione. "Sort of. You were actually killing me, so I had to kill myself, to kill you, to live, then bring you back."

Everyone in the room just laughed; the kind of nervous, relief-laden laugh that people do when they have been through hell and know they are out on the other side of it.

"Like I was saying," Aimée said. "You've both had a lifetime of experiences these past few days _and_ years."

"A lifetime," said Hermione again. "Are the boys still around?"

"On the landing," said Sophie."Like a bunch of expectant fathers!"

"I'd like to see them," said Hermione.

"If you're sure?" asked Aimée.

Hermione looked to Fleur, smiled at her and then nodded. "I don't look too bloody or anything, do I?"

"No, we cleaned you up and changed your shirt earlier," said Stefanie.

A minute or two later, Bill, Harry and Ron tentatively walked into the room, and then wore an expression of relief to see both Hermione and Fleur sitting up and awake. Both looked exhausted and pale, but they were alive.

"It worked? Properly?" asked Harry, looking at the older women's faces to try and detect any hint of something being hidden from them.

"Yes, it worked," answered Hermione.

Bill sat on a chair beside the bed, next to Fleur, and held her hand. "You gave us all a right scare."

"I know, but I happen to have a brilliant partner in crime with Hermione and a brilliant friend in Luna," said Fleur. "Not to mention wonderful people like my Grandma, Stefanie and Sophie. We wouldn't be here without them all."

Not caring how it looked, Bill had tears in his eyes. He tried to compose himself, failed and had to wipe the tears away, which then made him let his guard down. He couldn't stop himself from saying: "If you had to love anyone, other than me, I'm so glad it's Hermione."

"What?" said Ron. "What did you just say, Bill?"

"Shit! Sorry!" said Bill with panic written across his face.

Hermione shook her head, then squeezed Fleur's hand, nodded and said, "It's actually why I called you all in here, now. I can't leave it a moment longer. I no longer want to hide, and it's up to each of you as to how you take it, but I want you to know that I love Fleur. We've been together for a while."

"How...?" Ron said, trying to form a sentence and failing.

"I'm sorry Ron, I never meant to hurt you, or make you think anything otherwise. I love Fleur. I probably always have," Hermione said, with a breathy laugh, thinking of all the hate she used to have for her lover and knowing that some of it could have been the opposite. "When we were bonded, it's more than an Unbreakable Vow type of thing, it's what veelas do when they find their true love."

"I just don't...GET IT!?" Ron said in a loud voice. He looked to his brother. "And you're _FINE_ with this?!"

"Yes."

"She's...she's your bloody _wife_!?"

"Ron, my marriage to Fleur had issues, and I always knew about Hermione. I still love Fleur but I also accept Hermione," said Bill, flatly. "Anything beyond those facts is nobody else's business. _Nobody_ else's! You got that?"

Ron was silent. His cheeks were flushed, but it was hard for Hermione to know if it was from anger or embarrassment. Then he looked at Hermione. "All this time and you lied to me. Lied to us all."

"I didn't lie," said Hermione. "I didn't say anything about it, that's all. And think about it: doing what we were - finding horcruxes, riding dragons, fighting in a battle - at what point would it have been good for me to turn to you and say: 'By the way I'm in love with Fleur.'? In the Room of Requirement, as the fiendfyre was trying to fry us? Maybe when we were tied to those chairs, while Rodolphus was talking to us and decided to have a little practice on me with the _Cruciatus_ curse? Or maybe just before I went into a coma?"

Ron stayed silent.

"There was _never_ a good time to tell you. There was always something happening and then when Fleur's health depended on me, I had no time to consider putting an advert in the Daily Prophet announcing the state of my love life. And let's face it, there's never a good time to say this, and for me I was a bit scared of telling you all."

"We can't choose whom we love," said Harry.

"What would _you_ know?" asked Ron, turning to his friend with an incredulous look.

"Snape. Loving my Mum all those years, even after her death, having watched her with a man he loathed: my Dad," explained Harry. "I'm not saying Snape wasn't a git, but he was a _brave and loyal_ git, and what he showed me in the pensieve taught me something about love."

"Our two friends were dead a couple of hours ago," said Luna solemnly. "Really dead, and now they're not. We can't always be where we want to be, or with the people we want to be with. If I could have just one more day with my Mother I'd take it, but I can't and I have to face that every day. But I'm glad I'm alive, and I'm glad Fleur, Hermione and Harry are alive and I'm glad you're alive and unharmed too, Ron."

"I'm...of _course_ I'm glad Hermione and Fleur are alive," said Ron, wearing a confused expression, now. "I...I...don't know. I think I'm going to go home."

"I think that's a good idea," said Bill, and quickly added. "I'm not ribbing you, mate. I do honestly think you need some time to yourself away from it all."

"I would always have been at your side," Ron said to Hermione.

"I hope you will be in the future. Perhaps not in the way you hoped, but I do care about you, Ron," said Hermione.

Ron took a last look at Hermione, seeing her hand clasping Fleur's and how their fingers were interlinked, which gave him a feeling like his stomach dropping to the ground. He nodded to them and left, going back to the Burrow.

"I'd better go back with him," said Harry. "I'm glad things worked. After everything, we couldn't lose you, Hermione."

"You're okay, Harry?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," replied Harry.

"I might not be coming back to England for a while," said Hermione. "But I'll try to write and maybe you can come and visit?"

"Take all the time you need, Hermione. You deserve a rest. You and Fleur."

Hermione lifted her hand and beckoned Harry back to her, and she looked like she wanted to hug him, so he leaned down and hugged her, reassured by her very alive appearance.

"Now, don't be an idiot," she whispered.

"I'm fine with you and Fleur, I said..." he started to say and pull back, but she kept him close.

"...make sure you ask Ginny out again," Hermione finished, and let him go this time.

Harry stood back, wearing the hint of a blush and a quizzical expression. "Not after what I've put her through."

"Trust me 'Mr. I-know-something-about-love Potter'," said Hermione. Harry looked a little lost, which made Hermione laugh. "You've had long enough since Hogwarts for things to have settled down. Do it! Well...not actually _'it',_ not yet, anyway, but ask her!" He still didn't look convinced. "I'm not dying any more, but my dying wish is that you ask her out again!"

"Err...well...I'll see how things are at the Burrow," said Harry, but he didn't look quite so befuddled as he was moments before, and to Hermione she could see he was already thinking it through. "I'll see you again soon. Keep well, both of you," he said as he left the room.

"I want to stay," said Bill. "But I feel I should leave you in peace for a while. You've been through a lot. Keep in contact though, yeah?"

It was Fleur's turn to beckon Bill closer to her, and she put her arms around him as he leaned down to hug her. As he did so, he looked over Fleur's shoulder to Hermione and mouthed: _"Thank you."_ The younger woman smiled and nodded.

"Stay out of trouble, Bill," said Fleur.

"I'll try to. I've got a job at the Ministry if I want it, in Magical Law Enforcement. I like the idea of rounding up scum like Lestrange, or at the least trying to stop another Voldemort from rising."

"Oh, that's wonderful news!" said Fleur. "What...what happened to him, by the way?"

"He's in a secure cell, at the newly repaired and newly guarded, Azkaban," Bill replied. "He's serving life for all the shit he did before, so they'll add escape and kidnap to it, as well as a few other things during his time outside, including what he did to Hermione. The dementors are gone and they have much more reliable guards there now."

"I suppose Ron will say something to your parents?" said Fleur. "It had to happen sometime."

"Let me deal with that," said Bill. "I've thought it might be time to tell them the truth soon, anyway. This gives me a good opportunity. As long as you two are okay with that?"

Both women looked at each other and then nodded. "Yes, it's fine," said Fleur. "So much has happened that the truth might as well see the light of day."

"Take care, both of you," Bill said, as he gave one of his grins and left the room.

A little while later Luna also left, but Fleur and Hermione told her to come back in a day or two and the older women in the room definitely wanted her back to discuss those diaries. Luna was very happy to accept the invitation, once she had gone back and explained where she had been to her father.

"Is that lovely cottage free for us to stay there?" Fleur asked. The room was left to Fleur, Hermione, Aimée, Stefanie and Sophie, now.

"Good grief! You're not horny already, are you?" said Stefanie.

Fleur blushed then laughed. "No." She couldn't stop laughing, with Hermione laughing too, having to hold her slightly tender chest to cope with the laughs. "We loved it there before. I thought it would be a nice relaxing place to stay."

"It's free," said Aimée. "But we'll want you around here another day or two, to be on the safe side."

"I don't mind where I am, right now," said Hermione, stifling a yawn. "I'm so damn tired."

"Rest," said Stefanie. "Both of you rest. Unless you'd like us to move you back to your own room, Fleur?"

"You can try it, but you'll fail!" said Fleur, grinning. She was also feeling tired and lay back against the pillows.

"Is there any way to turn the beeps off on that bloody machine?" asked Hermione, who Sophie had insisted was still hooked up to it.

The doctor fiddled with a couple of buttons and the beeping disappeared. "I was about ready to hex that thing!" said Fleur.

"It helped us to help you both," said Aimée, but seeing both younger women looking very tired, she then helped to make sure they were settled, covered them with a blanket and left them to sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

A few hours later, after some dinner had been brought to Hermione and Fleur and they had both been checked over yet again by Stefanie and Sophie, they had a visit from Fleur's mother and father and her sister Gabrielle too. Hermione was nervous to meet Monsieur Delacour, whom she had only seen fleetingly at the Burrow for the wedding, but he couldn't have been nicer, and as he hugged her in greeting he kept saying: "Thank you. Thank you for saving our Fleur." over and over again in French and in English. When he finally let her go, she saw that he had tears down his face, which he unashamedly wiped away with a blue silk handkerchief.

In some ways the manner of their meeting had made it less problematic for Hermione. She wasn't sure what the response would have been had they both died - not that she would have been around to see the, undoubtedly, angry reaction - or had Fleur stayed dead and herself had survived. She didn't want to think on it much and thankfully it wasn't something she was going to have to experience.

Fleur's father said that, although he knew that Hermione and Fleur were already bonded, that he gave them his blessing completely. He said he had always felt a little sorry for Bill, but he knew that the heart often won through in the end and could not be ignored completely. Hermione also got another invite to visit the Delacour home in the near future.

The visit hadn't been all that long, but it had tired Fleur quickly and her mother could see this and, satisfied that everything was as it should be, bid them farewell. With another round of hugs from Fleur's parents and sister, Hermione's body really began to ache, feeling that every hug she was receiving, was like being used as a punch bag.

Aimée brought them some hot chocolate later, and they were left for the night. As they settled down, Hermione snuggled up to Fleur as they had always done, with both women enjoying the closeness. They shared the briefest, but tenderest, of kisses.

"How did you know what to do?" Fleur asked, before she tried to sleep.

"I didn't," said Hermione. "I heard Ron waffling on in here to me, after you had left the church and he said something about Luna and it was like everything sort of came to me then. I remembered her talking about those diaries at Shell Cottage and I wondered if they might help."

"It's amazing."

"I honestly don't know how I summoned Luna, other than deep will power and desperation," admitted Hermione. "I had no idea if someone could visit that place, in that plain, in that way, but we were so lucky that Luna has a trickle of veela blood in her. I was hoping she might somehow find her way to the house, I never expected her to appear in the church."

"I wasn't sure about her in the beginning," said Fleur. "But I got to know her quite well at Shell Cottage and I admired her, and trusted her. She never seemed to feel unsettled by Griphook at all, which made her the only one in the house who could stand to be in his company. I hated the thought of anyone making fun of her."

"She's proved herself again and again," said Hermione. "I suppose I was lucky that I thought about her at that moment, instead of baked beans on toast, because _that_ would have got us nowhere!"

Fleur laughed, then said, thoughtfully, "Did you experience anything else? While you...we...were gone? You know, dead?"

"I don't remember anything," said Hermione. "I don't think I was gone long from how they spoke. How about you?"

"I'm not sure," said Fleur. "I'm not sure if it was when I was dead or not. It was like I was sitting in the church, or somewhere like it, but the light was blindingly bright everywhere. It hurt my eyes, but I didn't see anything else. Or didn't have the chance to see anything else."

"It might be that whatever happens to you in that...instance, means you go there first," suggested Hermione. "Only, in a slightly different version of it."

"Sounds very possible," said Fleur. "I suppose you don't have any veela soul in you any more?"

"I..." Hermione paused, thinking, and actually felt a little sad. "I suppose I don't, now."

"Do you think you could try going to the church and find out if you can, or can't, go there any more?" asked Fleur. "I'm curious."

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself in that field and seeing the church. She was very negative about it and thought it would be lost to her now, and that she might only get the sunshine and fields experience. However, she gave a little huffy laugh when she saw the building, walked up to it and went inside.

"It seems I still have my member's card," said Hermione, amused, though it started to make her think more.

"I'm glad. I hope we'll never be parted like recent times, but I like to think you can see what I can," said Fleur.

"I accept that there will be things I won't understand, or be able to experience, because I'm muggle-born and you have veela blood," said Hermione. "Sophie told me something about it and how it was for her, and _is_ , with Stefanie, only she's completely muggle with no magical blood."

"You can still feel me through the bond?" queried Fleur.

"Yes," said Hermione. "And probably because you have a piece of my soul inside you now. I don't think it will give you anything special, like your soul gave to me."

Fleur held Hermione to her more closely. "It has given me everything. Another chance to be with you. To me that is _very_ special."

"I wonder if one of us sharing a piece of soul, gives me access to the church, because a part of me is a part of you? Or whether the sword, with probable veela heritage, is responsible?"

"I don't know," replied Fleur, sleepily. "I hope it won't keep you awake wondering?"

"No," said Hermione, then she laughed. "At this moment in time I'm so tired that my brain is a bit mushy and more likely to worry about other things, like: do penguins have knees?"

The last comment had Fleur laughing, and her whole body shook with her laughter. It made them both feel so alive. Hermione kissed Fleur again, then they settled for the night, which they slept through with no problems.

The following day, they were visited by Fleur's mother, by herself, and Hermione learned once again what a truly lovely woman she was. She didn't suffer fools gladly, which gave her that imposing aura, but underneath she was a loving and caring mother. Apolline felt able to ask more without her husband there and, although the answers made her well up with tears, she wanted to know everything. Apoline also wanted to meet Luna properly to thank her personally.

That day and the day after, Fleur and Hermione slept a lot as they recovered. Hermione occasionally had to cough and still brought up a bit of blood and phlegm, but Sophie told her she might do that for a few days as her lungs sorted themselves out.

The day after that, Stefanie and Sophie were happy with their patients and, to the younger women's joy, they were allowed to go to the cottage, on only the third evening after their experience with death. There was plenty of talk about getting in contact, if they felt odd or ill, and making sure they visited Aimée regularly, which wasn't a problem for them. On entering through the door of the little cottage, they immediately felt relaxed and at home.

"It's good to be back here," said Fleur, taking in a lungful of air, and savouring the homely smell of the place.

"It wasn't that long ago, but it feels like weeks since we were here," said Hermione.

They had a look around the rooms again, and saw a well-stocked kitchen, and everything looking as welcoming and comfortable as it had the first time they had stayed there.

Both women still had a lot of fatigue, but as they got ready for bed and got under the sheet and blanket, Fleur moved over Hermione and looked down at her, before lowering her head and kissing her. Fleur's gentle kiss soon became more needy and she rubbed a hand up and down Hermione's side, feeling the curve of her breast and hip, moving to kiss her neck, before going back to kiss her on the lips, allowing their tongues to meet.

Hermione felt like someone had flicked a switch on within her and it was a switch that ignited her passion. She had never wanted Fleur as much as she did then. To hold her, to kiss her, to feel her, to inhale her scent, to love her, to have her inside her and to be inside Fleur. She moaned into another deep kiss, as Fleur moved a hand between her legs and rubbed and squeezed her mound firmly, through her underwear, and then Fleur broke the kiss as she pushed up Hermione's top, gently kissing the scar on her chest before taking a nipple into her mouth..

Not bothering to use magic to begin with, Hermione wriggled and began to pull off her briefs, flinging them off in nearly one movement, and reached for Fleur's hand, guiding it back to her centre. She did use magic to rid herself of the top she was wearing and Fleur used magic to discard her own sleepwear. Hermione was aching for Fleur.

"Please," Hermione whispered in Fleur's ear, as the blonde woman kissed her neck. "Please, just...fuck me. I need you, so badly."

To hear Hermione talk like that, momentarily made Fleur pause, but it turned her on and she thrust her fingers into Hermione, loving how her hips came up off the bed to meet her, as she whined and moaned breathlessly. The brunette rolled them both slightly and put her hand between Fleur's legs, desperate to pleasure her lover too. She rubbed and thrust at Fleur's centre and could feel Fleur begin to reach the edge. As they both felt each other close to letting go, it was enough to send them both over into a strong climax, calling out the other's name.

Hermione was panting, her body tingling, but she had to grab her chest which ached and pulled a little, around the area where she had been so recently impaled on a sword. It made her smile, thinking of Sophie and Stefanie probably warning them off energetic sex, if they knew it made her chest ache.

"Hermione?" Fleur asked, as she began to breathe easier, and saw Hermione's discomfort.

"Just a little ache," said Hermione.

"I think you're getting a similar feeling to me," said Fleur. "It's not as bad as it was before, but I do still feel the aches. Another thing to share, I guess?"

The brunette smiled broadly and rolled on top of Fleur. "I'm sorry I spoke a bit...weirdly. I...I...err... needed you. Got a bit...carried away."

"Sorry?" said Fleur, with a quirk of a smile. "It turned me on, more than you can know."

The younger woman gave a sheepish grin and kissed Fleur, and moved on to her cheek and jaw and then to her neck, before giving some attention to Fleur's breasts. The blonde woman drew Hermione up to kiss her, rolling them again to kiss at Hermione's neck, and as she reached an ear, sucking on the lobe, she whispered: "You can talk dirty to me whenever you want to."

The brunette gave a breathy, slightly embarrassed laugh.

"Words are powerful," said Fleur, going back to the ear lobe. "When you said you wanted me to fuck you, my pussy clenched and I got so wet for you." Hermione gave a gasp. "See? Words."

Inevitably they made love again, a little less frantically. After which, they were both exhausted, but so happy to be connected again. As they held each other, Fleur admitted a worry she had.

"I did wonder if...if not having my soul inside you, would somehow alter how you felt," the Frenchwoman said. "That you might not feel the same. About me. I know it wasn't working like an enchantment, but it made me wonder if everything would change you. Change your feelings. Maybe make you think you'd made a rash mistake."

"No, not at all," said Hermione. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered it, briefly, in the few moments after I'd spoken with Luna in the church, but I never felt different at any stage. And now more than ever, I know it's real."

Two tired, sated and utterly happy women, found sleep easily that night.

 **A/N: The story doesn't end yet...four more chapters to go. :)**


	22. Blood Will Out

**A/N: It took a couple more days to post this. My laptop has had the hiccups. :)**

22: Blood Will Out

In the next couple of days, Fleur and Hermione enjoyed the relaxation and peace of the cottage. Fleur's grandmother visited each day, and Sophie and Stefanie dropped by too. The two young women continued to get tired easily and Hermione still found she started her day by having to cough and nastily expel coloured phlegm. She spoke to Sophie about it, who listened to her chest and said all was fine and that it was Hermione's lungs healing and adjusting to things, and as they had no idea just how much blood might have made its way to her lungs, it was a natural process as they cleared themselves.

One evening, when Stefanie and Sophie dropped by, the German veela brought up the subject of intimacy.

"I'm not being nosy...," said Stefanie, to which Sophie made a small noise in her throat. "...but, are things normal between you both? You know _normal_?"

Fleur wanted to roll her eyes and Hermione wanted to suddenly be in a different room, but her partner spoke all the same. "It's _very_ normal. And we're _very_ normal together. Aside from that, Hermione and I both seem to get these aches and pains, especially in the chest when we're tired."

"Yes, I'm afraid that might never completely go, for either of you," said Stefanie. "At least you're getting on with each other, and all that."

"We are," said Hermione. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I might not feel the same about Fleur after that experience? With me no longer having her soul within me? But my feelings haven't altered, only felt stronger, if anything."

"I'm...," Stefanie paused. "I'm sorry for poking my nose into your business, but you're right, it had crossed my mind."

"Did you know Luna has arrived back?" said Sophie, wanting to change the subject and not pry further into their friends' relationship, now that they knew things were unchanged.

"No," said Hermione. "Is she staying with Aimée? We haven't seen her today."

"Yes, she's there. We thought all of us could have dinner there tomorrow, and maybe get a first proper look, altogether, at those diaries," said Stefanie.

"That sounds good," said Fleur. "We'll be there."

"You haven't mentioned the other thing," said Sophie to her partner.

"Oh...and...there are some in the community, who think it's high time they got to see you both," said Stefanie.

"You mean the nosy, curious ones?!" said Fleur, with an exasperated sigh.

"Well, _all_ of them, really," said Stefanie. "It's been a while since you were bonded, so it's only natural, and the things they've heard, they want to see for themselves."

"At least we don't have to make love in front of them," said Hermione with a laugh.

"What?" said Fleur.

"Luna told me that, in her diaries it's mentioned that in centuries past, a newly bonded couple were expected to...make love...in front of the village. I suppose it's a bit like an official consummation thing," said Hermione.

"That's not still practised around here, is it?" Fleur asked, nervously, of their two guests.

"Good grief, no!" said Stefanie. "They'll _imagine_ it, to be sure, but they just want a formal introduction to Hermione. She's quite famous, even before all your recent adventures."

"So, when do we have to present ourselves to the fan club?" asked Fleur, amused.

"We were thinking about next weekend," said Stefanie. "It would be at Natalie's place. I don't know if you've ever been there before? She has something like a 'great hall' attached to her house, that's where any function normally takes place, but there's less and less of that these days."

"I know where it is," said Fleur, nodding. "I haven't been there for years."

"The next weekend it is, then," said Hermione, knowing she couldn't get out of it.

The following few days, Fleur and Hermione spent quite a lot of time at Aimée's, looking at Luna's diaries, and a couple of afternoons everyone converged at the cottage. As well as many long-forgotten and some unpleasant subjects that were entered into the diaries, they had looked over the particular case of the mother and daughter which had inspired Hermione's actions to save Fleur and herself. It didn't take them long to decide that the diaries definitely should not be made known to the community, nor a lot of their content. Aimée, Stefanie and Sophie would be the only ones to know about them, and Fleur, Hermione and Luna were not going to mention them to anyone.

Luna had also been invited to the gathering for Fleur and Hermione, and Aimée had been working on trying to piece together Luna's lineage and to whom she was related, apart from most likely being related to herself and Stefanie. The young woman herself was greatly enjoying staying with Aimée and being around Hermione and Fleur a lot, and because everything was slightly unusual, even though the community was also magical, she loved it all. No one she met thought of her as particularly odd, and on one occasion when she went with Aimée into the main village of the community, and met some of the others there with veela blood, one of the women was talking about some rare creatures she had seen as a girl, of which Luna had seemed to have heard of, and straight away a friendship was formed.

Hermione's favourite moments were always when she was intimate with Fleur, not necessarily making love, but just being with her, holding her, or being held by her. She loved being able to drop all the protective fences that she had had to maintain for so many years. For the first time in her life she felt completely herself. She didn't have to be anything to anyone, other than herself. No one had huge expectations of her, though whenever she spoke she was listened to avidly and with respect. It made her realize how guarded she had been for years, not just to survive being Harry Potter's best friend and fighting the dark forces that were always converging around him, but she had had to be guarded to survive her own life. Her life had blessed, or cursed, her with higher than average intelligence and the confidence to use that intelligence, but which had cost her so much taunting and ultimately given her quite low self-esteem.

In many ways Hermione had felt that Fleur had saved her, not only from the dark depths of a potential psychosis, which had been so near after Bellatrix had finished with her, but also saved her from herself. It was like Hermione had been a caterpillar, for all those years, until Fleur allowed her to morph and become whatever it was she wanted to be. She didn't have such grandiose thoughts to think of herself as a butterfly, but she certainly didn't feel like a lowly, crawling slug, which was only trying to get by and survive, anymore. She was living, and although there were still many questions and things to resolve, she had never felt more alive.

The night before the veela gathering, as Hermione came back from the bathroom to settle into bed, Fleur wanted to talk to her. "Are you worried about tomorrow?"

"Nervous," said Hermione. "Not worried. We're bonded, so even if a couple of old crones don't like me, it's hard cheese, it's all been done!"

"I'm a little nervous too," said Fleur. "I haven't seen some of those women for years; some not since before I started Beauxbatons. I hardly remember what the meeting hall at Natalie's even looks like. I'm sure I went there only once, as a child."

"It really is a chance for everyone to have a look at us," said Hermione. "I almost feel like a horse going to market and everyone wondering if I'll make a good flat racehorse or a jumper."

Fleur gave a little chuckle. "I've ridden you, so you're broken in."

Hermione blushed a wonderful colour. "Makes us sound like we're into whips and...and harnesses!"

"Maybe we should hint that we are," said Fleur. "I'd love to see the faces of some of those women."

"I might have to wear a paper bag over my head to cover my blushing."

"I wouldn't. We'd be making them jealous!"

Fleur began to kiss Hermione then, and it quickly turned more needy, but Hermione had to break off and cough, then take a drink of water. She turned back to her partner. "Sorry about that, please continue!"

"You're still coughing?"

"It's usually the mornings," said Hermione, then grinned. "Or when I get a little short of breath...like you often make me."

"I wish you didn't have to deal with that, or the chest aches and pains."

"It's all for good reasons," said Hermione, wrapping her arms back around Fleur's neck. "I get those aches and pains because you're here with me. I'd do it all again, even if I had to lose an arm!"

"I hope it never ever has to come to that," said Fleur, frowning.

"No, neither do I. _But_ , I'd do it in a heartbeat, if it meant saving you. I don't care if I'm coughing like a sixty-a-day smoker for the rest of my life, as long as you're with me."

"I'm so lucky," said Fleur, looking close to tears as she looked down at Hermione.

"No tears," said Hermione, as she pulled Fleur down to kiss her and allowed them both to feel a little bit of bliss before they went to sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

Hermione wasn't sure what to expect at the veela gathering; how many would be there, for a start; and that was what made her nervous: the unknown.

They had arrived with Aimée, at the veela called Natalie's house, and been introduced to her, and then surprisingly to her husband and daughter. The husband said he was going upstairs to read and wouldn't be at the meeting.

"He knows his place," said Natalie laughing.

The couple were approaching perhaps sixty years of age and their daughter Yvonne was nearly forty herself. She apparently lived in New Zealand and was very much into rare magical herbology, but she came back when she heard about the gathering. It made Hermione nervous again, wondering how many had made the trip, far and wide, just to take a look at herself and Fleur together.

Yvonne immediately got on well with Luna, as they discussed some plants and fungi that even Hermione had never heard of. It struck her again that she had been very slow to even consider that Luna had veela blood; seeing her friend here, she could see how at home, and how well, Luna fit in with everyone, which wasn't something that happened normally.

As Fleur and Hermione were led to the meeting hall part of Natalie's house, Hermione felt a tightness in her chest and reached for Fleur's hand, knowing it to be nerves. It was a relief to find that the hall held about thirty to forty women. Half of the women looked to be around Aimée's age and the others ranged from Fleur's age to Stefanie's. Aimée had said that not all of them were very magical, but several were in the coven that had helped Aimée talk to Fleur in the church, including the time when she had become ill in England. This then made Hermione consider how rare it was for what Fleur and herself could do, and that Luna was part of that rareness as well. They had just _thought_ themselves to that place, with little effort.

Natalie announced Hermione and Fleur and a round of applause rang around the room, and so began a whole lot of introductions, with everyone wanting to talk to them both, but especially to Hermione. Most of the time Hermione remained holding hands with Fleur, as if to gain strength from her, and almost to prove to the world that Fleur was indeed her partner.

A couple of older women they met, called Constance and Odette, seemed a little odd to Hermione, and she wondered if that was a sign of disapproval, but Fleur whispered in her ear later, "Stefanie told me they're in awe of you and what you've done."

"What I've done? What _have_ I done?"

"Fighting back Voldemort and fighting on regardless," explained Fleur. "Stefanie told me those two were tortured by dark wizards, who were working for the Gestapo, in World War Two. They know something of what you've been through."

"They were tortured?" whispered Hermione.

"Yes, but they're still here today and in awe of the woman I love," said Fleur smiling, before she placed a kiss on Hermione's cheek.

It was a tiring round of handshakes and chatting about things, some of it quite personal, but Hermione had expected it, going by the way Stefanie talked. She felt she was doing quite well and almost enjoying the experience. It felt remarkably like a wedding reception and even more so when Natalie flicked her hand and a buffet appeared on some tables, along with some drinks, including copious bottles of champagne.

The time seemed to pass quickly, but Hermione's hand almost felt bruised from all the handshakes and one or two insisted upon firm hugs and her aching chest began to feel like a punchbag again. She tugged on Fleur's hand, to walk over to some chairs.

"It's no good, I need to sit down," said Hermione, exhausted. "I know you must be tired too."

"I am," replied Fleur. "But what a nice evening. You...you _are_ enjoying it, aren't you?"

"It's nice," said Hermione. "Not as bad as I thought it might be. There are some really nice women here...although, that being said, I'm glad we don't have to make love in front of them!"

Fleur laughed. "I agree, now. That would be truly horrifying!"

Stefanie brought them over some fresh glasses of champagne, and asked how they were liking the evening and their thoughts on the event. Hermione spoke to her about the two older women and their torture, and Stefanie said the women had only been young girls at the time.

"Their captors knew what they were and hoped to turn them, but they never succeeded. It was said that women made the best assassins," explained Stefanie. "Imagine women assassins with magical and veela blood?! Goodbye Europe! Thankfully very few veelas, if any, ever went bad like that."

"Are they _'together'_ together?" asked Hermione in a quiet voice.

"Yes," said Stefanie, enjoying being the person that knew everything about everyone and being the source of local knowledge. "They grew up together not far from here, apparently, and after everything they went through they became inseparable and it soon became more than friendship.

"I can't say I remember them," said Fleur.

"They only came back to live here about two years ago," said Stefanie. "They travelled and lived all over the world, but I think they wanted a little quieter life sweetest couple you could ever meet...well, that was until we saw you two!"

Hermione couldn't avoid looking back to the two older women, after Stefanie had gone over to speak with some others, and they looked back and raised their glasses to the brunette. She was slightly astounded again, but smiled back and raised her glass to them, taking a sip of the fizzy liquid, glad of the distraction it brought: it tasted pleasant and sweet and lively.

A couple of the younger women, they hadn't yet properly met, walked over to them. Both were blonde and one was quite a bit taller than the other. "Well I never!?" said the tallest one, in French, to Fleur, as they approached. "I always knew it was _her_! When I heard the rumours I knew it was true."

"Did you go to school with Fleur?" asked Hermione, in French, taking the women by surprise slightly.

"Yes, we did," said the second girl, with a nearly sneering expression. "I'm Sabine, and this is Colette."

"I didn't know you kept in contact with the community here?" Fleur asked them.

"We're not here often, but always like to see _'big'_ events like this," said the taller woman, called Colette, in a slightly sarcastic tone.

Taking small sips of her champagne, Hermione decided to listen to what Fleur and her old school friends said. A lot of it seemed boring to Hermione, because the two women, although Fleur's age, were still talking about other school friends and being quite bitchy about it too. After a minute or two, with Hermione trying to avoid eye contact and using the excuse of waving at, and acknowledging, other people in the room looking her way, she had taken another look at the two women and something occurred to her.

"You were at the Triwizard tournament?!" said Hermione, when there was a break in the utterly dull subjects they insisted on chatting about.

"Yes, we were, unfortunately," said Colette.

"It was unfortunate for everyone," said Hermione.

"Of course: that boy's death and Fleur being absolutely shit in the last two tasks," said the sneering shorter, Sabine. "But my god, what a crappy school. So backward and the guys all inexperienced little farm boys. And the girls? I'll never forget the bad hair, the terrible teeth and the..."

Hermione _really_ recognized the two women then. They had been part of Fleur's inner circle, part of the group that had laughed at her. She immediately felt tense, then felt irritated that she felt that way, after all the time that had passed and all the events. So, she decided to put them off guard completely.

"We needed talented Beauxbatons students like you, in our recent troubles," Hermione said in a friendly tone. "I suppose you had to stay in France to guard your own borders? My goodness, we needed everyone there, though."

"We...we were...unable to enter Britain," said Sabine. "But we would have come over had it been possible."

"We're actually amazed your lot won, but Harry Potter was always a lucky boy," said Colette, in a prickly tone, showing Hermione that they both had had no intention of helping out and were deflecting the shame with more scorn.

"I suppose learning he had to die and then walking to his death, in order to come back and fight Voldemort, whom he then killed, did take a lot of _luck_?!" said an incredulous Hermione.

"He had more luck than you, by all accounts," said Colette. "I've heard you've been rather good at getting captured and letting others get captured with you. I thought you were the brains behind this...this 'Golden Trio' everyone talks about?! I'm amazed you weren't killed years ago with _that_ kind of talent!"

"And that's where you stop!" said Fleur, standing up. "You jealous, sad, pathetic bitches! Hermione is worth a hundred of you any day. She has more intelligence, more courage and more beauty, than you two could even comprehend."

"They _do_ say love makes us blind," said Sabine, looking to Colette, and both of them nodding in agreement.

"Do you hear that whistling noise?" Fleur said.

Both of Fleur's old school friends looked confused and even glanced around them, as if something was happening that they hadn't seen.

"That's the sound of the air between your ears, because your brains failed to develop!" Fleur was really riled, now.

Hermione stood by Fleur's side and squeezed her hand. "It's okay. They're not worth it."

"You're damn right they're not worth it!" said Fleur, looking straight at her old school friends. "Hermione has laid her life on the line, for so many people, for years. She was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, and she died to save me. There isn't a cowardly bone in her body...where as you two..."

"Fleur...it's...," Hermione tried to calm her partner again, unsuccessfully.

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her and it's likely the magical world wouldn't be here and free without her. What have you two ever done? Broke a fingernail opening a door? You're pathetic and you think that whatever happened at Beauxbatons is relevant to today?! Here's the truth: everyone grew up when they left that school, except you two. I might have been your friend back then, but I pulled my head out of my backside and left that school shit behind, and I'm very thankful I left our friendship behind too. I'd be ashamed to call you my friends, now!"

"Fleur..." Hermione felt overwhelmed, and the champagne wasn't helping to ground her any better.

The room broke into applause and one or two made wolf-whistle noises in approval of Fleur, including the woman Fleur knew to be the mother of Sabine, which felt oddly gratifying. The now embarrassed, and thoroughly dejected two women, walked through the applauding gathering and left the hall, which got even more cheers. Sabine continued to sneer and held her head at a rather pompous angle, as if they completely chose to leave and hadn't been shouted down by one of the guests of honour.

"Fleur...it's okay...," said a tired and mildly dizzy Hermione, as she thumped her backside back down on a chair, shaking her head slightly, at everything that had just happened.

Fleur sat down next to Hermione again. "Sorry, but I wasn't going to let them get away with it. They were there that day and, although you've forgiven me, I wanted them to pay for it in some way too."

Hermione coughed a dry tickly cough. "I think the room liked what you said."

"It felt good," said Fleur.

"You didn't ever...you know...with either of them?" wondered Hermione aloud.

"No. Thank Merlin for that!" said Fleur. "You're not worried I...?"

"It's the past," said Hermione. She coughed again and tried to clear her throat. "It doesn't...matter."

"Do you want me to get you some water?" asked Fleur. "The bubbles in this champagne might be tickling your throat."

Fleur stood up and walked away to get Hermione a glass of water, as the brunette coughed again. She continued to cough, and feeling a bit self conscious, she took a handkerchief from her pocket to cough into. It made her chest ache to keep coughing, and then she felt a sudden burning pain and coughed again, and immediately her handkerchief felt wet. She pulled it away and saw that the tissue and her hand were covered in fresh blood.

Sophie had been watching Fleur and Hermione, after the drama with Sabine and Colette, and as soon as she saw the blood, she rushed to the side of a white-faced Hermione, whose expression of surprise had turned to fear.

"It's okay, I've got you," said Sophie. Hermione coughed again, and more blood dribbled from her mouth and from her nose too.

Rushing back, Fleur went to her other side. "What's happening?" she asked Sophie, frantically.

Stefanie had now rushed over to them, with Aimée. "We need to take her back to the house, now." And with no further discussion, Stefanie Apparated Hermione and Sophie back to Aimée's house and Aimée took Fleur and Luna with her.

Back at Aimée's house, they put Hermione in the room she had been in before and the hospital machine and equipment was still there.

"You didn't get around to taking that lot back?" Stefanie asked her partner.

"No...it's a bit difficult taking things back. A lot harder than taking them away. Besides, they might be useful to us now," said Sophie; she fitted some sensors to Hermione, and the machine started up, thankfully still on the silent setting.

"What's...hap...happening to...me...?" Hermione was stopped by another cough, and a little more blood was gathered in a bowl Sophie held under her chin.

"We don't know yet," said Sophie, calmly. "But you know we'll take good care of you."

Fleur sat in a chair beside the bed, holding Hermione's hand. She was doing her best to remain calm and not pass any of her own fear through to Hermione.

Luna was also in the room and was fearful for her friend, thinking that Hermione had suffered too much for one person in a short lifetime, and that whatever was happening shouldn't be happening to her. She decided to be useful and told the others that if they needed anything she would help, even if it was just to get a clean bowl, or make everyone cups of tea.

Aimée had been to Stefanie's house, quickly, to collect Sophie's medical briefcase, but was looking as concerned as everyone else.

Stefanie immediately sat on the bed, next to Hermione, and placed a hand on Hermione's temple and the other on her chest, closing her eyes and concentrating. Her patient had to have a cough or two, but it didn't disturb the German veela. After a couple of minutes, Stefanie removed her hands, failing to hide a perplexed expression.

"Sophie, what is your machine telling you?"

"Low blood pressure, erratic pulse and a few other things out of balance," Sophie replied to her partner. "Would you like me to look at her too?"

"Please," nodded Stefanie.

Sophie got her stethoscope and listened to Hermione's chest, and she tapped a few places along her ribs and sides. She checked the younger woman's pulse in her neck, her arms and her feet and did one or two other routine checks. Hermione was looking pale and wasn't sitting up to cough any more, and lay back against the pillows, her breathing coming in wheezes.

"Well?" asked Stefanie.

"Her chest is full of fluid," said Sophie. "I think it's probably blood. I don't think I'm telling you anything we don't already know."

"She's bleeding, inside," said Stefanie, as she laid her hand over Hermione's chest, directly over the scar, where Hermione had been impaled with Joan of Arc's sword. "I can sense something, like a small tear, but it's like I can't quite get around the edges to pull it together."

"Are we talking veela, or a physical muggle, kind of tear?" asked Sophie.

"A bit of both. As much as I can tell it's heart and lung, around the area I healed before."

"She's going to be okay?" asked a worried Fleur, but no one answered straight away. "You can do something about this?"

"We'll try everything," said Stefanie.

Fleur's hopeful expression dropped, and she went nearly as white as Hermione, realizing that maybe, for once, there was something that couldn't be healed. Apart from shock and fear for her lover, Fleur didn't feel ill herself and wondered if the part of Hermione's soul she had, didn't work in the same way as her own, as it was completely human with no trace of veela.

Hermione's eyes were closed and she coughed again, and this time her breath came in loud, almost snoring, wheezes.

"We need more time!" said Stefanie, worriedly. " _I_ need more time!"

"I'll put in a chest drain," said Sophie. "If you can't do anything for the moment, let us at least ease her discomfort, and that should also give you some more time. We'll do what we once did before, a few years ago, a plain tube in to let the fluid and blood escape, I won't use any water to form a seal, like we would for muggles, but I'll need you to make sure her lungs drain through it."

Stefanie nodded, and Sophie was quick to get the tubing from her briefcase; she used a small amount of local anaesthetic on the side of Hermione's ribcage, made a small incision and guided the tubing through. "Luna, can you get me a bottle, or jar...even a bowl would do."

Sophie held her thumb over the end of the tubing, as Stefanie muttered a small incantation, and then Sophie released the tubing into the large jar Luna had brought her, and immediately blood and fluid dripped into it. Almost straight away Hermione's breathing was less laboured.

"She really needs a drain both sides for both lungs," said Sophie. "But that should help for now, with that magical part too."

Placing her hands on her patient again, Stefanie tried to delve further, to see what was going on and why she seemed unable to find a healing answer, or anything that pointed to the method she needed to use. The whole thing was troubling her a great deal.

After a few minutes, Stefanie sighed and sat back once more. "I don't understand why I cannot heal the tear and above all I don't understand how it happened?! I try to heal it, and it's like my healing evaporates as soon as I've done it."

"I have a theory," said Luna, and everyone in the room turned to her. "She was physically hurt with the sword, and at the moment she was healed she moved a piece of her soul over to Fleur, so that might have left a tear soul-wise, but also undid some of the healing when she forced that extreme emotion from within herself."

Stefanie stared at Luna for a moment. "Well...it's possible. But we checked them both for days and they were fine; tired but fine. It's almost like this is new."

"Maybe it was a weakness; like how a hole in a sock, even after it's been repaired, is still a weak point. It may not have taken much to have broken through the repair you did for her," said Luna, with confident hopefulness.

"It was those stupid girls!" said Fleur, angrily. "I bet it was them! They were being horrible to her and she remembered them, from when we visited Hogwarts, and we were nasty to her then. It...it might have been enough, with the whole event - as she was nervous - to make it happen."

"Yes...," said Stefanie, her eyes far away, deep in thought. "Yes, that might be it."

"And you can heal her, now?" asked a hopeful Fleur.

"I might know the 'why'," said Stefanie. "I don't yet know the 'how'. I'm sorry."

Hermione gave another cough, almost as if she was telling the room that she was still there. Sophie wiped away the trickles of blood that ran from the corner of Hermione's mouth. The jar collecting the drain, from the brunette's chest, had been emptied once and was slowly filling up a second time.

"Sophie, couldn't you...couldn't you physically do a muggle thing and stitch up whatever it is that is torn?" asked Fleur, but in a soft voice, hardly daring to ask because she already knew the answer.

"I would do anything for you and Hermione," said Sophie. "But, I'm not a surgeon and even if I was, Stefanie has always told me that I can't completely heal something myself, that has its roots in your magical and veela world. Anything I tried to do would probably not work and only endanger her further. And to be perfectly honest with you, if this were a muggle case, Hermione would not be alive, now. She's lost so much blood, but the fact she's with us is cause for hope."

"I can't lose her," said Fleur, a tear sliding down her face. She held her partner's hand more firmly and leaned over, touching her forehead to their clasped hands, turning her head to rest her cheek against them and not face the others in the room.

Aimée placed her hand on Fleur's shoulder and gave it a little squeeze, saying a silent: _'I'm here with you, whatever happens.'_

A little time passed and Sophie and Stefanie had been talking with Aimée about anything they could think of that was similar. They even asked Luna if there were any other helpful things she could remember from the diaries, that might help this new situation. The jar of blood and fluid had been emptied and still the tubing was allowing more to drip newly into the jar.

"Isn't there anything that could grow back injured tissue?" asked Luna. "I know bones can be regrown and mended."

"If it was purely a physical problem, yes," said Stefanie. "But this isn't."

Hermione had been quiet for a time, except for her breathing, but now she suddenly coughed again - and it was more than a couple of dry tickly coughs - the second time she spluttered some more blood. She opened her eyes and moved her head up and then had to cough over the bowl Sophie brought her, more blood forcing its way out of her; she nodded her head and tried to smile at Fleur, before mumbling some words.

"Price...always a price. I would...do it again...but...if this is the price...so...so be it," said Hermione as she glanced at Fleur. "I...love you. Always will." She laid back again weakly, blood trickling from her mouth until Sophie wiped it away.

"Sophie," said Luna. "The wavy lines on this machine are looking strange. Less peaks more like wiggles."

Fleur had been alert and aware the moment that Hermione had opened her eyes, and as she felt pain within herself she heard and felt the deeper meaning to Hermione's words, before she then heard what Luna said and felt the tension heighten in Sophie, in answer. She grabbed Hermione's hand again. "No you fucking don't! You are _not_ going to leave me! You _can't_ leave me! _Please_ don't leave me..."

The next moment Hermione felt nearly breathless, as if someone had punched her in the stomach and winded her. Her chest tingled and she felt a resonating ache, but then...then she felt Fleur, stronger than ever.

Fleur wasn't sure what she was doing; she wanted Hermione to stay awake and be with her in the room, she also wanted her to not be ill, to be free of pain and to stop coughing up blood and above all to stay with her. She loved her with every fibre of her being and her grip on Hermione's hand had the strength of that conviction. She didn't know if she was actually doing anything, until Stefanie came over. The tall blonde woman was trying to think, of any way she could prolong her patient's life from ebbing away and laid her hand on Hermione's chest; then she suddenly turned to look at Fleur.

"You did it again?" asked Stefanie.

"Did what?" replied a confused Fleur.

"You put a piece of your soul inside her again."

"I did?" replied an astounded Fleur.

"Yes, you did," said Stefanie, her hand remaining on Hermione's chest. "You're in there again and...and..."

"What? 'And' what?" asked Fleur. "Don't say I've made a big mistake and put us all back to where we were before?!"

"Something is happening...I'm able...to...," Stefanie broke off as she concentrated hard. "The tear is starting to hold together."

"Really?" queried a stunned Fleur.

Sophie listened to Hermione's chest and looked at the jar. "Still a bit full, but...," she frowned as she checked the chest drain. "But...this appears to be stopping."

"I think she's healing," said Stefanie, in a quiet voice, not daring to believe it.

Hermione had her head turned towards Fleur, and she opened her eyes again briefly. "I love you...Fleur." And then she closed her eyes, her whole body sinking back into the bed and pillows.

"I love you, Hermione," answered Fleur, her eyes welling up. "Keep fighting, my darling, you have me in there to help, now." Fleur looked to Stefanie hopefully. "Is she really healing? Truly? Not that thing of just getting better before she dies?"

"That tear I spoke about is nearly closed up, and all I'm doing is holding it together," replied the German veela, tired but relieved.

As the minutes went by, with both Stefanie and Sophie monitoring their patient, all the signs were that Hermione was getting better. The drain was no longer needed, but Stefanie helped matters by using it to magically clean away any blood and fluid from Hermione's chest, to hopefully avoid the days and days of coughing, which had happened before. She performed some basic healing on the brunette to help her energy levels, something she would do on anyone, battling any type of illness, and laid a healing charm onto her heart and lungs in the hope it would strengthen the healing which had happened.

After a few hours - early into the next day by now - in which Stefanie and Aimée had cleaned up their patient and put her in a fresh T-Shirt and clean sheets, Hermione began to stir; she looked at Fleur - who hadn't left her side - and then she looked at the others in the room, as Aimée returned with a potion bottle and made her take four teaspoons of the foul-tasting contents, assured that it would help to replace the blood she had lost. Grimacing and wanting the taste gone, she looked at the room again, and saw Luna properly for the first time since being taken back to Aimée's house.

"I think that was the last part," said Hermione in a croaky voice, that got stronger with each word. "That bit we...talked about, but didn't know about?!"

Luna looked at Hermione. "That 'sketchy' bit of the plan we weren't sure about? I think it just got resolved. Balance has been restored."

Hermione smiled at Luna and then turned to look at Fleur. She took a sip from a glass of water and in a much clearer voice said, "We're equal now. Although, I hope you're not even weaker because of it? And I hope you won't get ill, or any of those issues?"

"We can't know for sure," Stefanie answered, instead of Fleur. "But as Fleur didn't get ill now, when you were, although she felt your pain and struggle, I think all rules have been reset. Maybe with you ensouling Fleur first it has prevented the negative association of having a veela soul particle. We won't know for sure, but I have a feeling that something is different about the whole thing. Other than making you incredibly close, I do not see it as something that can go bad, like before. It feels quite different. You feel different to me compared to the time before."

"I definitely think it's all been reset," said Luna, confidently. "And as they both have parts of each other's souls then it cancels out the negative things that can imbalance it. That mother and daughter case only ever had the mother giving a part of her soul, the daughter didn't reciprocate and maybe that is something that could have altered their futures a little."

"I think you're right, Luna," said Stefanie. "We have to be prepared that something may happen in the future, but after these past few weeks, I think we're prepared for anything."

"I'm happy to be where we are, right now," said Fleur and she turned to Stefanie and Sophie. "I can't thank you enough for what you've done."

"We didn't do much," replied Stefanie. "You were the one with the answer."

"But you cared for us and you _tried_. You've both always tried for us. Thank you," continued Fleur. "To have Hermione still with me is all I ever wanted. There is so much I don't know about her..."

"Well...," said Hermione, having to clear her throat. "I'm not a secret axe murderer. I don't like brussel sprouts, but I love cheese."

Fleur laughed. "Oh, there's so much more to you than cheese!" She held Hermione's hand and brought it to her lips to kiss the knuckles. "We still have so much to learn about each other. I couldn't bear the thought that we hardly know each other yet. I want to spend my life with you and for an awful amount of time I thought I was going to lose you."

"I'm here," said Hermione. "I...I think I thought it was all over a little while ago. I had nothing left, but then I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach, and I found myself again. It must have been you. How can I ever...?"

"You don't need to thank me," said Fleur. "We know what we'd do for the other and we've both done so, and I'd do much more, if I had a chance of saving you."

Hermione looked to Stefanie, Sophie, Aimée and Luna and was about to say something else when Aimée spoke. "You don't have to thank us either. You're worth every moment for how happy you have made my granddaughter, and for what you've brought to our lives. You're family now, and family don't have to say anything because we _know_."

"Which is a _bloody_ lot more than _we_ know?"

The women turned to see Bill in the doorway with a man, who had been the one to speak, and a woman whom Aimée didn't know. She turned to the others and no one showed any initial recognition, so she fixed Bill with a stare.

"Sorry, we should have knocked, but everything has happened so fast and we got here and..." Bill began to explain, but was cut off.

"Dad?!" Hermione said to the man in the doorway. She blinked a few times. "Dad? And Mum? Is that...?"

"Yes, it's us," said Hermione's mother. "And YES, it's _really_ us; the entire Weasley family have been interrogating us for the past hour to make sure we're not...not...whatever it is they thought we might be, even though your Ministry lot had already done the same thing several times!?"

Aimée beckoned Hermione's parents into the room. Mrs. Granger went to the bed and got hold of Hermione's hand, seeing all the medical equipment in the room and looking more and more alarmed.

"She's been very ill," said Sophie. "It's a little complicated to explain. But she's getting better."

"I can promise you that she's getting better," said Stefanie.

"Getting better? That Ron boy told us you'd died, or something, and came back? I thought that was a couple of weeks ago?" Mr. Granger asked, slightly ruffled.

"It's complicated," said Hermione. "Everything that has happened this past year is complicated and all connected."

"Well, not much made sense of what the Weasleys tried to tell us," said Mrs. Granger with a sigh.

"How...?" asked Hermione. "How are you here? When...?"

"A little over a week ago we were...well...nearly deported from Australia, or worse," replied Hermione's father. "The thing is, we don't even bloody remember going to Australia?! We were looking in to opening a new bank account, apparently, and something about us must have made the bank cashier nervous and the next thing we know, the police and border control people are asking questions. Questions, that we couldn't even answer, and the more they asked the more confused we got and realized that _we_ didn't even know who the hell we were! If it wasn't for some man from the Ministry of Magic stepping in - and I still don't know how _he_ knew what was going on - we would probably be in prison!"

"How would the Ministry know?" Fleur asked Bill.

"Well, according to Kingsley, Hermione's parents had a wizard assigned to them, in Australia, to keep an eye on them. It was all top secret and he didn't want any of us to know, thinking it might affect her work with Harry. But apparently we've known where they were all along."

"That's all fine, and not completely surprising," said Hermione. "But _HOW_ are they here? As themselves, I mean. I...I...cast _Obliviate_ on them."

"They said something about a spell earlier," said Mr. Granger. "It sort of made sense, but we haven't a clue why it didn't last."

"I have an idea," said Luna, the room turning to her. "Please try not to be alarmed, but from what you said, the spell seems to have faded around the time, or just after, Hermione died."

"' _Incantationis mortem'_ , " said Aimée.

Fleur mouthed the words silently to herself, as did Hermione, and the brunette was first to speak. "Incantation death?"

"Yes," said Aimée. "It's the only thing I can think of. Quite literally when you died, however briefly it was, the spell you cast on your parents died too."

Hermione put her head in her hands. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't know what..."

"The Weasleys told us," said Mrs. Granger. "We know what you did, and why you did it. We're not angry, Hermione."

"It was a little bit awkward, and nearly turned into the holiday from hell, a week ago or so, but we understand why you did what you did," said Mr. Granger, as he walked around the bed and placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder.

"I can't be sure, but it's likely that you might have been hurt," said Hermione, still feeling that she had to explain herself.

"It wasn't 'likely'," said Bill to the Grangers. "It _would_ have happened. That is to say, we know that your house was watched and was broken into, only two days after you left it."

"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Fleur.

"I only knew myself a little while ago," said Bill. "It was for the safety of us all, that we didn't know about it. Besides, no one was hurt, thanks to Hermione."

"I hope I never have to do anything like that again," said Hermione, unable to totally shake the shame.

"If you do, then we know it's for a damn good reason," said Mr. Granger, smiling. "I don't think we should go on holiday to Australia any time soon, though."

"How did you get to the Weasleys?" asked Hermione. "I don't think you've ever been there before?"

"Your Ministry again," said Mrs. Granger. "They said it was the best place to find you, or at least where to start. Then Bill transported us, or whatever it is you do, to get here - not the most pleasant experience I've ever had. "

"Did they tell you anything about what's happened?" asked a wary Hermione.

"Not much, no," said Mr. Granger. "Your friend Harry told us about Hogwarts and some other things, we didn't really understand."

"It's a lot to go through," said Hermione, with a little sigh. "So much has happened and not just in the past couple of weeks."

After Sophie reassured the Grangers that their daughter was well, but she wanted to keep her hooked up to the medical equipment a little while longer, Stefanie and Bill got more chairs into the room and Luna made tea and coffee for everyone. Stefanie had tried to insist that they leave Hermione with her parents for some privacy, but Mr. and Mrs. Granger wouldn't hear of it and wanted everyone to stay.

A lot of the events of the past year were explained and Hermione tried not to dwell on what had happened at Malfoy Manor, because it immediately became a difficult subject, because of Fleur. She had given the Frenchwoman a few side glances, to try and gauge how calm she was, but she looked completely unflustered and Hermione couldn't feel any tension through their bond.

Fleur becoming so ill wasn't something they could skip over, but Hermione was still unprepared for how to go about it. Her mother and father had been looking at her intently as she spoke, their expressions changing, now and again, as more details were divulged of the dangers their daughter had faced.

"So I came here with Aimée to help Fleur recover and..."

"Wasn't Fleur's illness related to you, in some way?" asked Mrs. Granger.

"...well...," said Hermione, thrown off guard. "Sort of."

"Your friend Ron said something about Fleur being in love with you and not being able to cope with the separation?" offered Mrs. Granger, her face completely devoid of expression.

"...well...," Hermione floundered again. "I...that is to say..."

"It's true," said Fleur. "I've been in love with your daughter for a few years. And I never thought she would ever feel anything for me, but that changed."

Hermione looked at Fleur, feeling a little confused. She thought she would feel shocked and embarrassed when the time came for her parents to find out about the love of her life. She _did_ feel shocked, but the stronger emotions were: pride, relief and no longer caring who knew.

"Yes, it's true, Mum," said Hermione, feeling stronger by the second. "I feel the same way about Fleur. And - you may not like to hear it - we're actually bonded to each other. It was part of helping her to heal, when she was ill, but also because we love each other."

There was silence for a moment. Mr. and Mrs. Granger exchanged a look.

"If you want me to leave," said Hermione. "Then I'm sorry, but I won't. I'm eighteen years old, nearly nineteen, and you can't make me leave. I love you both, and you have to know that seeing you again has been one of the greatest joys I've ever felt. However, this part is my choice and I'm with Fleur, now."

"I wouldn't expect any less," said Mrs. Granger calmly. "And why would you think that we'd want to take you away?"

"Maybe because this isn't the kind of 'normal' safe relationship you probably had in mind for me?!" said Hermione.

"'Normal, safe relationship'?" repeated Hermione's mother. " _Are_ there such things?!"

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but couldn't think of a word to say and it left her looking somewhat slack-jawed.

Already gauging the atmosphere well, Sophie moved next to the bed and comically put her hand under Hermione's chin to shut her mouth. "Your daughter is perfectly fine. See?"

Hermione batted the English doctor's hand away. "Well...well...I wasn't expecting this?!"

"What were you expecting?" asked her mother.

"Disgust, revulsion, shame, and at least mild irritation," said Hermione, bewildered.

"Good grief, Hermione, you don't think you're the first lesbian I've ever seen?" said Mrs. Granger. "You're not even the first in the family."

"What?! Who?!" Her daughter nearly had her mouth open again, but closed it quickly.

"When I was a little girl, I used to visit a Great Aunt of mine: Aunt Maud," began Mrs. Granger. "She was my Grandmother's sister, on my Dad's side of the family. She used to live in this little cottage with another old lady called Mrs. Slegg, who was a quaint old thing who used to always knit me mittens in winter. I never thought anything about it. I just thought it was two sweet old ladies, with a sherry habit, living together for company and to share the living costs."

"How do you know there was something more?" asked an intrigued Hermione.

"I overheard my Mother one day, talking to my Grandmother, when she was collecting me for the weekend and going to take me for another visit," said Mrs. Granger. "My Mother didn't approve all that much, and my Grandmother was saying there was no harm in it. And it was then that my Mother spelled out what my Aunt and Mrs. Slegg were - you know, in the way adults always spell out words, when they think their kids can't possibly figure out the spelling. When I got home again I looked up the word in a dictionary and suddenly 'L.E.S.B.I.A.N.' made sense to me, but my Mother's disapproval didn't."

"If she was Mrs. Slegg, she must have been married?" asked Hermione.

"I did ask my Grandmother about that," replied Mrs. Granger. "She said she'd married young and her husband had died in an accident with some farm machinery and she never married again, but my Great Aunt became friends with her not long after and they were together from then."

"Did they stay together?" asked Hermione.

"Oh yes, and they died within two weeks of each other," said Mrs. Granger. "I couldn't go to either funeral because we'd moved by then, and Grandmother had died and we lost touch with a lot of the extended family. Anyway, the point is, we're not shocked and after all, we _are_ dentists."

Hermione frowned, looking from her mother to her father. "What has being dentists, got to do with it?"

"We see all sorts come in to the surgery," said her father. "And there isn't much we haven't seen, or are bothered by."

"Okay," answered Hermione, still a bit taken aback at her parents' calm demeanor.

"So, this bond you spoke of...," asked Mrs. Granger. "Is it like the veela form of marriage? That's what your friend Ron was trying to imply?"

"Yes, sort of," replied Fleur.

"I can't believe Ron was even talking about it?!" said Hermione.

"I don't think he wanted to," answered her mother. "But he kind of blurted it out. He didn't seem all that pleased, which I suppose he wouldn't be, as you and he have been close for years."

"Yes," said Hermione. "I don't think that was ever meant to be. He had plenty of chances to get there first and didn't." Then she thought. " _I_ had plenty of chances too, but somehow I obviously didn't feel as strongly as I thought and did nothing about it either...I made excuses for not putting myself forward."

Fleur tried to explain what had happened with Hermione and herself, and the way their souls had worked both for, and against, them. Hermione had relaxed a lot, seeing how unperturbed her parents were about everything. She had always expected at least a raised voice, or some kind of huffy course of action, but her parents had basically given them their blessing. When her mind had got around that fact, it all felt easier to recount more details of their medical problems and the way it was resolved. She surmised that, thinking of the very worst reaction, had prepared her for the extreme, of anger and rejection from her parents, and when that didn't happen, the situation felt completely normal and completely calm.

Both Hermione and Fleur were interested in how Mrs. Weasley had taken the news about themselves, and how things had changed with Bill. It had apparently been received with a puzzled response.

"Mum went all kind of odd," explained Bill. "Her expression was sort of determined and...and..."

"What?" asked Fleur.

"She almost looked _pleased_ for a few minutes," said Bill, with a shrug of his shoulders.

Fleur nodded. "She never thought I was good enough for you. She probably thinks she's been proven right."

"That's harsh. I'm sure she was just surprised," said Mrs. Granger.

"No," said Hermione. "She was probably feeling vindicated, because she didn't want Bill to marry Fleur, in the beginning."

Mr. Granger gave a little chuckle. "Sorry, but that suggests that Fleur isn't good enough for Bill, but she's good enough for _you_ , Hermione. Unless she doesn't know about that part properly?!"

"She knows everything," said Bill.

"And?" asked Hermione. "Am I banished from the Burrow, for mentally damaging Ron? Banished for breaking up your marriage? Or banished because I like women - which isn't true, really, it's only Fleur I've liked in that way, not 'women' per se."

"She kept saying 'Hermione _and_ Fleur' and then 'Fleur _and_ Hermione' a few times," replied Bill. "Then she sort of shook her head, rolled her eyes, made a strange noise in the back of her throat and muttered something about wars doing strange things to people?!"

"'Wars doing strange things to people'?" said Fleur, bemused.

"She was muttering on about birth rates always going up and that kind of thing," said Bill, with a grin.

"I'm not bloody pregnant!" said Hermione, which made the others laugh.

"She thought _I_ was," said Fleur.

"When was that?" asked Bill, feeling a strange sensation of both hope and loss, which he suppressed.

"When I was ill at Hogwarts and had pains in my stomach and felt sick, she kept asking if I was pregnant. It got incredibly tiresome and after a while she even got _me_ doubting myself!"

"So, is she okay with everything?" Hermione asked Bill.

"Well...in her own way, yes," replied the red-haired man. "Which means she's still trying to get her head around everything, but she'll be fine eventually. Especially as I said that Fleur and me are good friends whatever happens. She doesn't understand that part, but she'll get there. After everything, she does care about you both, a lot, even if she doesn't want to admit to it right now."

"We could have a subtle talk with her, if you'd like us to?" offered Mrs. Granger. "She did seem a little baffled about the subject, when we saw her."

"I think she'll be fine," said Bill. "After all, she was something of a match-maker with Tonks and Lupin and he was a full werewolf! I can't honestly see why two women being together, and those two being women she knows well and cares about, will bother her for too long. Thanks for the offer, though."

By this point, Hermione's energy levels were getting low and her eyelids grew heavy and her speech began to slur, so they all left the room to let her sleep, except for Fleur insisting on staying. Hermione wouldn't allow her to stay if she was going to snooze in a chair, and told her she had to lie next to her on the bed, or leave the room. Fleur didn't argue.

XXXXXXXXXX

The Grangers stayed at Aimée's house for a few days and Hermione loved having her parents back with her and not hating her, or avoiding her. Fleur enjoyed getting to know the Grangers too, enjoying the stories of the times before Hermione knew anything about magic. Some stories made Hermione blush with embarrassment, but she loved the family atmosphere.

Sophie and Stefanie kept an eye on Hermione, but were pleased to see that she was nearly fully recovered after a few days, and that Fleur had no additional damage, despite giving away a part of her soul again.

A week or so later, Aimée invited her daughter and son-in-law over for a family gathering, so that the Delacours could meet the Grangers. Hermione could tell that her parents were slightly nervous beforehand, but she reassured them of how lovely her in-laws were.

The meeting was a huge success with each set of parents fascinated by the other and friendships were soon woven, which made both Fleur and Hermione more pleased than they thought possible. There was something about having a stable family and being surrounded by family that made everything seem right about life.

The Grangers eventually went back to England, to find that the Ministry of Magic had bought back their old house for them, and they looked forward to returning to their old life. Hermione was relieved that she could visit whenever she wanted to, but they let her know that she didn't have to be there every day, that they knew she was safe and happy and healthy.

Both women had options for their near and long-term futures. Fleur had numerous job offers from the Ministry, as did Hermione, and the latter also had options to go back to Hogwarts or to even teach there. As for their living circumstances, they were given the cottage in the veela community, as Aimée said there were other places they could use for future bonding events, which didn't happen very often anyway.

Fleur's parents were quite wealthy, as Hermione found out, when she visited Fleur's family home a couple of times, and was in awe at the size of it. The Delacours had bought the couple a small house in England, for when they wanted to be there, nearly equal in distance from the Weasleys, Shell Cottage, the Ministry and Hermione's parents.

'Happy' was a word Hermione had spoken, and had definitely felt in her mind a few times over the past few months, but those occasions were always fleeting, short-lived moments, which then ran into the next disaster, shock, or potentially fatal situation. Now, finally, she felt using the word 'happy' had a more genuine feel to it. Fleur felt it too. Everything just felt right: about their relationship, and enjoying getting to know each other even better; and about all their friends and family, who seemed to not hold any grudges against them - not even Ron. Their life, in general, was 'happy'.

Everything was settled, and both women felt that their own brand of being 'happy' was a very long-term thing. They hoped for the rest of their lives.

THE END...or is it...

 **A/N: The three-chapter epilogue, which will follow, is something I always wanted to write from the beginning and play around with some ideas and a character. But it is entirely up to the reader whether you prefer the story to end here, or prefer it with the epilogue chapters. (Hope to post the first of those very soon).**

 **The name I used for the character Odette is named after Odette Sansom(Churchill, Hallowes), a woman who worked as an agent in WW2 and was captured and tortured by the Germans. A black and white film was made about her in the 1950s. She was one of the few women to be awarded the George Cross for bravery and the only 'living' woman to have received it, all others having been awarded posthumously.**


	23. Epilogue 1 Consequences

**A/N: I'm taking some historical liberties again to twist things to 'my' possibilities. But this part of the story was in my head from the very start, and until I started typing I had no idea where I could work it in. Shows what a vivid imagination, a love of history and a chocolate habit can produce. LOL**

23: EPILOGUE 1: Consequences

(A few years later...)

Hermione had never been scared by being joined to Fleur, with a bond which was nearly the veela equivalent of an Unbreakable Vow. She had been young, recently tortured, battered, bruised, confused, scared, bereaved, exhausted, dejected, forlorn and without hope, when she had arrived at Shell Cottage, after being at the mercy of Bellatrix Lestrange at Malfoy Manor. She thought that she might have ended up either in St. Mungo's, next to the Longbottoms and Lockhart, or maybe even have died from having given up entirely. But it hadn't happened: because of Fleur.

As sudden as it might have seemed to others, the feeling between them and, in particular, Hermione's love for Fleur was real, at every step of their relationship. No matter the difficulties, she was more sure of her feelings for Fleur than any other thing in her life. As time passed, her feelings didn't change, except to only confirm that she had made the right choice in her life partner. Hermione and Fleur were deeply in love with each other and deeply committed to spending their lives together, however long or short that might be.

Hermione had returned to Hogwarts for a short time, to gain enough knowledge of the subjects she needed to pass her NEWTS, which she did with no problem, and then she went straight into the Ministry, starting in areas dealing with Magical Creatures and the treatment of those of mixed race; married to a part veela gave her an invested interest. But she hadn't worked in that department of the Ministry for very long, when she was persuaded to transfer to Magical Law Enforcement, and found herself even training new aurors. Fleur also worked at the Ministry, dealing with charms and occasionally having to work in the Department of Mysteries.

Both women knew that their friends and family were happy for them, although they were sure some were looking for the first sign of there being a problem, or thinking Hermione was having second thoughts, but that was never an issue. Their love was enduring, and they both took their bond of veela 'marriage' seriously, and never doubted that they would love each other until their dying day, like the two old ladies they had met in France, Constance and Odette, had been devoted to each other. If the bliss of their relationship made other people feel sick at its sweetness, then it wasn't Fleur's and Hermione's problem.

They knew that magical people, in general, lived a little longer than their muggle counterparts, and Hermione knew that those with veela blood could live a little longer than ordinary magical people. Fleur was only a few years older than Hermione, and one time when the younger woman brought the subject up, she became unexpectedly tearful at the thought of leaving Fleur behind alone.

As they had cried together, Fleur reassured Hermione that she was ready for that, but that equally, neither of them could know the future exactly and what might happen, or befall, either of them. They agreed to enjoy every day they had and only reach the dark days when they eventually came. In their line of work, accidents could and did happen, so having differing extended life expectancy didn't necessarily mean anything. Having talked it through, it seemed to help them both, and if anything, made them more happy and determined to enjoy their love.

The passage of time is a peculiar thing and with Hermione and Fleur it had always been peculiar. They had maintained their friendships with the Weasleys and a few other friends and Hogwarts-connected people, but as everyone went out into the working world, and often in different departments at the Ministry, and married off, having children, it was harder to keep in touch with everyone as closely as before. Letters and messages were more common than physically having time to meet up, especially as Hermione wanted to be either with her parents, or with Fleur's family in France.

Harry had married Ginny, much to Hermione's delight, and they had three children. Ron wasn't married, but he had been in a relationship with Romilda Vane for years, which he had kept quiet for a long time because of an incident at Hogwarts, with a love potion meant for Harry, which Ron had taken instead. Romilda was a slightly strange woman, but loved watching quidditch and she and Ron, oddly, got on really well. Neither seemed to want the big marriage thing, no matter how much Mrs. Weasley and his siblings kept hinting at it. Bill was always a close friend to them, and they were pleased for him when he met a woman called Ulrica, through his work, who had also been attacked by Greyback. Unfortunately for Ulrica, she had been fully turned, but Bill was devoted to her and to finding more satisfactory potions to help her problems. He helped to create a department within the Ministry for helping werewolves, rather than ostrasizing and controlling them like they were a plague.

Their dear friend, Luna, had turned into an intrepid traveller of the world, and met an interesting magical botanist guy, with whom she fell in love. No one really understood a word they said to each other, but they were happy together and that was all that mattered. It seems he was also the great-great-grandson of a part veela, which added to their compatibility. So the friends all kept in touch, but didn't see as much of each other as they would have liked.

There were a few anniversaries for the Battle of Hogwarts, as it had become known; for the survivors of that night to gather together and to remember the fallen. They had an anniversary gathering every year until the fifth anniversary and then one on the tenth, and every five years. The gatherings were held in Hogsmeade and were always interesting, and often entertaining, to catch up on what old school friends had been up to and how everyone looked, and Fleur and Hermione attended the events every time.

It was at the fifteenth anniversary gathering, that Padma and Parvati Patil were talking to them, and seemed envious of Fleur and Hermione.

"You two never change a bit!" said Padma.

"Must be all that sex keeping you youthful!?" said Parvati with a giggle.

"Why does everyone think that Fleur and I are always having sex?!" said a bemused Hermione.

"Well, she's veela...they say they have big appetites for it," said Padma, nearly whispering, even though Fleur was standing there and could hear every word.

"Yes, I like sex with Hermione very much and very often," said Fleur, in a matter-of-fact way that made Hermione cringe.

"Well, whatever you two are doing, it's working wonders for your complexions," said Padma, before the sisters moved off to talk with some of their other old friends.

"Thank you very much!" said Hermione, turning to Fleur. "By the time we leave tonight, everyone in this room will think we're sex maniacs!"

"Aren't we?" asked Fleur with a raised eyebrow.

At the twentieth anniversary the people present were all approaching their late 30s and early 40s, and a few people were looking a little the worse for wear. By that time, Harry had the slightest of grey hairs showing at his temples, and Ginny looked a little heavier around the hips than she used to. Ron looked like Romilda had been feeding him pies for the past twenty years and by then Professor McGonagall was looking much more elderly, although no one had a clue about her actual age.

Once again, Fleur and Hermione were complimented on their looks and how happy they still seemed to be. Ginny was slightly jealous about the calm, easy relationship, Hermione had with Fleur and had told her, at various times, that she and Harry had arguments, usually over the children and what they should or shouldn't be doing. Ginny had even suggested trying to go back and play quidditch for the Holyhead Harpies, or do some coaching work with them, but Harry hadn't liked the idea.

At these anniversary events, Hermione would look around the room at everyone and feel relieved, most of the time, that she hadn't taken alternative avenues from being with Fleur. It made her feel a little smug, which she hated to admit to, when she knew some of the trauma and issues, some of the people present had experienced over the years.

It was shortly before the thirtieth anniversary that they attended Mr. Weasley's seventy-eighth birthday party. In his eccentric way, he didn't want to celebrate his seventy-fifth or eigthtieth, if he lived to then, but said seventy-eight was perfect, because of the thirtieth Battle of Hogwarts anniversary. Hermione and Fleur both thought he had aged a lot more than anyone else, and hoped he wasn't ailing with anything.

At the thirtieeth anniversary the usual people were there, as always.

"What are you two taking!?" said Katie Bell, the former Gryffindor quidditch player.

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"You two...have you found some kind of anti-aging potion?"

"No," said Hermione. "And even if we had, we wouldn't take it."

"Well, if anyone deserved luck it's you two, I don't begrudge you that," said Katie, as she moved on to talk to some old members of Hufflepuff.

"Fleur it _is_ a bit odd how we haven't aged like the rest of our friends," said Hermione, quietly to her partner. " Do you think it's something to do with how much time we spend in France, in the veela community?"

"I think it could be," said Fleur. "My Grandma is well beyond normal age. I've never asked about that. Maybe I know what I'm supposed to know and know when to ask it?!"

Hermione laughed. "I'd forgotten about all that cryptic stuff. I would like to ask about it...in case we suddenly get old overnight or something. I want to be prepared for the shock!"

"I never notice if we've changed or not," admitted Fleur. "It only seems to be when we meet others, whom we haven't seen for a while, that they seem to point it out."

Aimée was fairly elderly by this point, and her good friends Stefanie and Sophie now lived with her. Stefanie was older too, though not as old as their house mate, and Sophie had been retired for several years from being a doctor, although she always helped people in the community with minor ailments if they asked her.

Fleur, Hermione, Stefanie and Sophie sat around the kitchen table with Aimée one evening, as they had often done; the two younger women were frequent and welcome visitors.

"How did the birthday party and anniversary go?" asked Sophie.

"The same as usual," said Hermione. "Although I think Mr. Weasley has changed a lot. He's really aged, even in the few months since I last briefly saw him."

"He's always been such an active and busy man too," said Fleur. "It's a bit unexpected to see the change in him."

"Didn't you once tell me that he was attacked by a snake?" asked Stefanie.

"Yes, many, many years ago, by Voldemort's snake, it nearly killed him," said Hermione.

"Hmm. It's possible that may have been the thing that has aged him slightly more quickly," said Stefanie. "That was no ordinary snake either. I'm sorry to say it, but it may eventually shorten his life. Aging is a fickle thing sometimes."

"That's why we're here today," said Hermione. "Sort of..."

"Ahh. You want to ask something?!" said Aimée, knowingly, having answered some of their questions before about various veela things.

"Why are _we_ not aging like our friends?" said Hermione. "For a few years, people have kept pointing out that we don't change. They're either convinced that we've found some anti-aging potion or something else."

"Yeah, we've been accused of having non-stop sex as the cause!" said Fleur with a smile, which made Stefanie laugh. "But it's true, neither of us have grey hair or..."

"And I don't even have laughter lines," said Hermione, her fingers naturally going to the corner of her eyes and cheeks, feeling smooth skin there. "Is it something to do with spending so much time here? Or an effect of being bonded to a veela?"

"I'm bonded to a veela, and it hasn't halted things entirely" said Sophie, pointing to the greying hair at her temples and the grey in her ponytail. "But then again, I'm not magical."

"Being bonded to a veela and spending time here can help to halt the aging process and give a bit of extra longevity," said Aimée. "I'm proof of that!"

"So it's luck and a bit of veela help?" asked Hermione.

"Would you let me look into you?" asked Stefanie. "Like old times, just my hands at your temples? I haven't checked you two for years and years, I'd love to see that your healing is still complete after all this time."

"Okay," said Hermione, not seeing the look that passed between Stefanie and Aimée.

Stefanie sat next to Hermione and gently put her hands on either side of Hermione's head at the temples and closed her eyes. After about five minutes she released, expelled a deep breath and then moved next to Fleur to carry out the same with her. Once done she slowly made her way back to sit next to Sophie.

"Was everything okay?" asked Hermione, a little concerned that Stefanie hadn't spoken.

"Yes, everything is okay," said Stefanie, tiredly, the action she had taken exhausting her more quickly these days. "Everything is very okay."

"What did you find? Really?" asked Aimée.

"I'm trying to process it myself," said Stefanie. "The healing is completely fine, with no problems, but I'm not sure of absolutely everything I found. It's that thing I thought was different before, all those years ago, and...hmm..."

"What!?" said Hermione abruptly, then put her hand up apologetically. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap, but that sounds like something _is_ wrong?"

"Not wrong, really...just..." Stefanie tried to find the words. "I can't explain it and I'm not sure I'm seeing what I think I am."

"Tell us, Stefanie," said Aimée, encouragingly. "Perhaps together we can work out whatever it is that's troubling you? At the moment all we're doing is scaring the dear women."

"Sorry," said Stefanie. "The thing is, your bodies, and the healing I did for you all those years ago are exactly the same."

"We're still healed?" asked Fleur. "That's good, isn't it?"

"Yes, but you're _exactly_ the same now, as then," said Stefanie. "It's like I only healed you a month ago. There is no trace of any scar tissue, only healthy healed bodies. But your general health is exactly the same as in 1998!"

"How is that even possible?" asked Hermione. "Can it be just veela related? Or is it because of the soul transferral thing?"

"I don't know, precisely," said Stefanie. "...and I hate not knowing."

"I thought it might be something like that," said Aimée calmly.

"What are you saying?" asked a worried Hermione. "That...that we haven't aged? Or our bodies haven't aged? Or haven't fully healed?"

"I can't answer it all, because I don't know," said Stefanie. Sophie reached for Stefanie's hand sensing both puzzlement and concern in her partner.

"Me neither," said Aimée. "You are in no danger from the healing; that seems to have remained as it should, but you have both not aged since then. I thought something might have been happening, because even _I_ noticed that you were not aging even slowly."

"Hermione still has the body of someone in their late teens and Fleur of someone in their twenties, which is bizarre," said Stefanie. "I haven't come across anything nearing that for delayed magical, or even delayed veela, aging."

There was silence for a moment, as everyone tried to take in the information and make some sense of it.

"All right," said Fleur. "Our bodies look like they did back in 1998 and haven't aged since then. Does that mean...?"

Hermione finished the sentence for her partner. "Does that mean we're still aging, but it won't show? Will we drop down dead one day, when the actual time has been reached, even though we don't look any different?"

"I don't believe so," said Stefanie. "If I did not know you, and how old you are, there is nothing to indicate that you were born around forty to fifty years ago. To me, you are around eighteen and twenty-one years old."

"What does that mean?" Fleur asked again, then chuckled. "Are you saying we're...we're immortal?"

"Possibly," said her grandmother, with a small nod of her head and no amusement in her expression.

"Shit!" said Hermone, and put her head in her hands before uttering another, " _Shit_!"

"How did this happen? Is it the soul particles?" asked Fleur.

"I've never ever seen someone become immortal before," said Stefanie. "I wish I could help and answer your questions, but I don't know anything about this. I only know that, what I thought was different in 1998, after Hermione was saved by Fleur's soul for a second time, is now apparent. You were immortal. That is why you felt different. Your souls weren't in danger of harming each other because of that factor too, it just wasn't clear at the time, when we were concentrating on Hermione getting well. And also, we never would have considered it, because it's not something we've ever seen. It's only in the context of your not aging and the passing of time, that has made it apparent now."

"You've read the diaries several times," said Fleur. "There must have been something similar to this in there?"

"No, there wasn't," said Aimée. "Nothing close to it. I'd remember if there was."

Hermione laid her head on her folded arms, on the table, suddenly feeling exhausted. "I don't know what to think. I...how can it have happened? Does this mean...? Oh...I'm so tired."

"Why don't you and Fleur go to the cottage for the night and try and sleep on it. We'll look at the diaries again and we'll talk on it tomorrow, with fresh minds," said Aimée, kindly.

Hermione didn't think she would find sleep easily, after finding out that she and Fleur were basically immortal, by some unknown means, but with Fleur holding her close, like most nights, she found sleep straight away.

Some hours later, Fleur was woken by Hermione shaking slightly. She thought she was cold and checked to see if Hermione was covered by the quilt, and then as she propped herself up, she leaned over and saw that the brunette was crying in her sleep. Fleur didn't know whether to wake her from whatever bad dream she was having, but after a few minutes Hermione woke up, shouting "NO MORE!"

Fleur gently placed her arm around Hermione. "Shh, my love. I'm here. You've had a bad dream." The last time she had heard Hermione shout that out in a dream, had been back when the younger woman had arrived from Malfoy Manor, and that worried her.

The brunette curled up tighter and shook as she continued to cry. Fleur held her, and Hermione turned and wrapped her arm around Fleur, holding on to her tightly.

"I can't...," said Hermione. "I can't watch it."

"Watch what?"

"Everyone I love die," said Hermione. "I've visited everyone's grave...just now. Mum's and Dad's, your parents', Ron's, Bill's, Harry's, Ginny's and even their children's. I can't do it..."

"It's likely some of those people will die before us, anyway," said Fleur, softly. "Especially our parents."

"But _everyone_?!" said Hermione. "Even Harry's kids? I know...I know we have each other, but how do we watch everyone, and I mean _everyone,_ we love and care about leave us."

"I don't know," said Fleur. "As long as I have you, I think we will find a way to cope. I'm not sure we have a choice."

"I'm so confused," said Hermione. "Not about you, or us - of course not - but what this really means. How did this even happen?"

"Stefanie obviously hasn't seen this before, or I'm sure a few more people she had healed, or bonded, would have come forward by now," said Fleur. "They don't seem to think it has anything to do with the souls we share either."

Hermione gave a little snort or derision. "I said, and knew, I would love you forever, but I never thought it meant _FOREVER_ forever!?"

"Bored of me yet?" asked Fleur, trying to keep the conversation as light as she could and not think about visiting her little sister's grave or Bill's.

"No. I meant what I said, that I'd love you forever," said Hermione, more seriously, as she raised herself up and kissed Fleur tenderly on the lips. "And yes, as hard as it will be, we have each other."

For a time, the two women kissed, gently connecting lips and holding each other as a form of comfort, trying to deal with the revelations and possible consquences of their status. They remained close as they spoke afterwards.

"I was hoping Luna's old diaries might have had some hidden gem someone remembered," said Hermione, as she rested her head on Fleur's chest.

"Knowing my Grandma, and Stefanie and Sophie, as we do, I would say they will have been up all night, reading through them to make sure they missed nothing."

"I suppose it's a good thing we never had children," said Hermione, so quietly that Fleur only just heard her.

"You wanted children?"

"I'm not sure. I never really found a time to think of having them, and of course, I assume we're too old now and might be even too old to adopt. How about you?"

"I thought I would with Bill, at some point, but...we...never got beyond our problems to think on it further," said Fleur.

"If we had, we'd have to watch them die," said Hermione. "I know some children die before their parents, and we saw enough of that at Hogwarts, but it would be a _certainty_ with us."

"I sometimes think it would have been nice to have someone to carry on after us," said Fleur. "But you're right, now it would be..."

"...like knowing a car crash was going to happen and getting a seat ready to watch it?!"

"I don't know if I would put it like that," said Fleur. "I understand what you mean, though."

Fleur then rolled them, so she was on top of Hermione, looking down at her. The brunette looked up at her and wrapped her arms around her, running her hands up and down Fleur's back.

"Whatever happens next, whatever we find, I love you, Fleur," said Hermione. "I don't regret a moment of our time together, and...and if we get longer than most people, that is what we have. It is what it is."

Feeling her senses and emotions heightened, Fleur simply said: "I love you, my darling." She lowered herself and claimed Hermione's lips with her own, in a gentle kiss. With both of them emotionally drained, they reached for each other deeper and made love, needing and wanting release; anything to take the tension from their bodies a little. They then held each other as they dozed off for the rest of the night, until the morning sun awoke them, letting them know another day had started, whether their bodies registered the passing of time or not. They hoped and hoped that Fleur's grandmother and their friends had found some answers - even if it wasn't a cure - at least to know how it happened, to understand it more.

That morning, they had a quick breakfast and made their way back to Aimée's house, to find all the occupants up and around, but the kitchen table was thick with opened books and unrolled parchments. It gave the two younger women a bit of hope that something had been found. Sophie poured them all a coffee as they sat at the table.

"You've been up all night, haven't you?" Fleur asked the three older women.

"Not _all_ night..." Stefanie began to say.

"Most of it, then?" offered Fleur. "I know what you're like. I'm sorry you lost sleep for us."

"It made life interesting, looking at all these diaries, documents and books again," said Aimée.

"And did you find something?" Fleur asked hopefully.

"No, we didn't," replied her grandmother.

"Not anything?" asked Hermione, feeling suddenly empty inside.

"No. We're sorry," said Stefanie.

"We think we've found another instance of soul transferral," said Sophie. "But there was nothing unusual about it and although we don't know what happened later, it seems to have not had any obvious effect. It's not explicit, but working between the lines, it seems like a soul transferral."

Hermione sighed and rested her head on her crossed arms again, feeling hollow and oddly helpless. "There must have been something like this happen to _someone_ magical, or veela, in history, before us?" she said, not really asking anyone, but saying her thoughts out loud. "Things like this don't _just_ happen! And didn't you say once that, you never call anything 'unique' because there's usually at least one instance of similar happening at another time? There has to be someone? And not Nicholas Flamel and his Philosopher's Stone. Real immortality and..."

The brunette was stopped from continuing when Fleur grabbed her arm. "There is. Catherine!"

"Catherine?" asked Hermione, sitting up straight to see Fleur, her eyes alert and lively, and Aimée and Stefanie slowly nodding their heads. Hermione felt like she should know the answer too, but couldn't quite find it.

"Strangely, I don't think her name has come up since. The Catherine I met, at that church, to get the sword. Joan's sister, who has veela blood and is immortal and..." Fleur stopped and her face dropped.

"What is it?" asked Hermione, now remembering exactly who Catherine was.

"Has anyone seen her, recently?" Fleur asked her grandmother. "In the last couple of years?"

"No," answered Aimée. "She hasn't been here for over thirty years. And after you, Fleur, we've not known of anyone going to see her for the sword. Unless someone from outside of the community has done so."

"A few years ago, at a community meeting, her name came up," said Stefanie. "And because no one had seen her, or had a need to see her, we assumed that she might have finally died; for some reason none of us went to check. We thought she might have been alive long enough to help ensure the final demise of Voldemort and that she knew, she and the sword were no longer needed."

"So, she could still be in that town, in the same house?" asked Fleur.

"Possibly," said Stefanie.

"Would going to that courtyard, I went to before, be safe?"

"I think it would be fine," said Stefanie, considering the idea. "It's an enclosed area for that house. If someone else is there, you'll have to Disapparate quickly and I'm sure any problems arising from that can be dealt with."

"It's worth a try," said Fleur. "Although, she didn't seem to know why she was still alive, when I spoke to her all those years ago. She only knew that she wanted to return that sword, as it was the only piece of her sister she could save."

"But she has to know more than we do now?" suggested Hermione, feeling a little more positive; she always did feel better when there was a plan to carry out, when a difficult situation arose. "Who better to ask about immortality than the only other person we know to have it?"

"And at least we'll know if she's still there," said Fleur, standing up. She went to hug her grandmother. "Sorry for your lost sleep. If only I'd thought of Catherine sooner."

"We should have thought of her too," said Aimée. "It's been so long since her name has been mentioned, she was out of our minds. And because of who she is, she was just special. Even if you do find her, be prepared that she might not be able to help. Her circumstances might have been very different."

"Of course," said Fleur. "We might as well leave now. I'm not sure I can wait longer, now we've got this idea."

"We have to try it, anyway," said Hermione as she also hugged Aimée. "And the sooner the better for me too. We'll let you all know when we get back."

Stefanie gave Fleur the instructions again, of the location being in a courtyard at the back of the street called Rue Boucicault. Hermione held Fleur's hand, trusting to her partner's ability to Disapparate them to the place they needed to be, where she herself had never been before.

They arrived in the courtyard and immediately looked around them for any sign of life, particularly muggles, whom they might have startled by their appearance out of thin air. There was no one there, however.

Fleur turned to face the doorway that she remembered Catherine standing at, when she had met her before, but the doorway was empty and the door closed. "Should we try knocking on the door?"

"How do we explain that we're in the courtyard?" asked Hermione, nearly whispering.

Looking around them, Fleur saw a high wall which belonged to a neighbour; the other side's neighbour had a large outbuilding against the side of their courtyard wall. "If anyone else answers the door, we'll say we came over the wall, trying to find our cat."

"It's better than anything I can think of," said Hermione, feeling slightly breathless from the whispering and from the nerves which seemed to have arrived.

Taking her partner's hand, Fleur led them to the door and, after a short pause, she knocked on the solid timber, the sound seeming far too loud in the enclosed area. For a moment there was no sound and Fleur was going to knock once more, and had her knuckles inches from the door as she heard movement inside. There was a scraping noise and the sound of a bolt or latch being undone and the door opened.

"I wondered if you'd ever come back," said an elderly woman in French, talking directly to Fleur.

"Catherine?" asked Fleur. "It is Catherine?"

"Yes, but I look different, since we last me, don't I?" said the old lady. "Come in, ladies. Please come in."

Catherine led the two younger women through a hallway to a homely sitting room and indicated chairs for them to sit on, as the elderly lady also sat in a comfortable old armchair.

"So, this must be the woman?" Catherine said to Fleur, indicating Hermione.

"Yes, she is," said Fleur, introducing Hermione. "She can speak French, so you can talk to her too."

"It is just as well, as my English has never been very good. Well, a special young lady indeed," said Catherine, then she spoke directly to Hermione. "Did she tell you that the sword appeared for her, on her thoughts for you alone?"

Hermione shook her head, with a little frown, realizing that the incident had never come into conversation properly. She only knew about the woman vaguely. She supposed that with everything going on they never got around to talking about Fleur's visit to the church in more detail as other things became more important.

"Yes, that's true," said Fleur, looking at Hermione. "I think it was, anyway."

"I haven't had many visitors these past years," said Catherine.

"I'm not sure our community knows you're still alive," said Hermione.

"Oh I'm alive - different - but alive," said the old lady.

"You keep saying you're 'different'?" asked Fleur. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but you look a lot older than the last time I saw you. I thought if you were - what you are - that you wouldn't age another day?"

"Even _I_ don't know exactly, but I do seem to have aged," said Catherine, then saw the concerned faces of her visitors. "Oh don't worry about me, my dears. Maybe it is time to finally rest. Maybe when you finished your work the last time, that the need for me, or the sword, was diminished. Or maybe not."

"That's what my Grandmother wondered, if we couldn't find you at all, or you had somehow died or vanished," said Fleur.

"I'm here for the moment," said Catherine. "And so are you, and that means you have come to see _me_ , rather than the sword. Even after all these years I'd always recognize if someone had a need for the sword. It's like a calling. But I don't sense the same thing with you two."

"Yes, we'd like to talk to you," said Hermione. "It's rather difficult and complicated, but we have no one else to ask."

"Please continue and I will try to help," said Catherine.

"Last time we met, you told me that you didn't know for sure what happened, but that you became immortal and have lived here since then," said Fleur. "Do you remember anything about the moment you realized what had happened? Did something odd happen? Did you experiment with a spell and it happened around then?"

"No, there was no _spell_ ," said Catherine. "Back then, I hardly realized I had any magical blood, and certainly didn't know what to do with it. Nothing extraordinary happened, but I was aware that I felt a little different not long after returning the sword. It was only later that a veela healer told me she thought that, not only had my weary, tired and blistered, feet been healed that day but I had attained eternal life."

"You never met anyone strange on the way back here? No one tried to stop you and talk to you?" asked Fleur.

"It was a long time ago," said Catherine wearily.

"I know, and we're sorry to be asking these things," said Hermione. "But we're desperate for some kind of knowledge, because we recently discovered that..."

"Ahhh, I see," said Catherine, nodding. "Fleur, you have acquired my 'gift' too?"

"Not just me, Hermione as well," said Fleur. "We have no idea how it happened, other than around the time we were healed by Stefanie, thirty years ago. She's never seen it before either."

"We share soul particles between us too," said Hermione, giving Catherine a brief amount of information on how their souls had endangered them and then saved each other.

Catherine was surprised at their news, but as an immortal woman herself, she wasn't particularly disturbed by the information. "I can see from your worried expressions that this was a shock to you?"

"It was and still is," said Hermione. "It changes so many things for us. We thought...if...if we could only work out how it..."

"If you knew how, you could reverse it?" offered Catherine, knowingly. "Yes, I can see that. It is a lonely life, although I have enjoyed seeing the generations come and go. You are better off than me, having each other, but I do understand what your fears are. You fear burying every person you know and love?"

"Yes. We should be happy: we're together, literally forever," said Fleur. "But it's going to be hard."

"Even if we never stand a chance of reversing it, we want to know how it happened," said Hermione.

"I'm sorry I cannot be of more help," said Catherine sadly. "Although I have lived as long as I have, I'm not an expert on the subject."

"I'm sorry to ask and I know it was hundreds of years ago for you, but it's one last thing I can think of," said Fleur. "Do you remember when you retrieved Joan's sword? And what happened at that time and until you made it back here? Are you able to tell the story of what you did at that time?"

"This will require a glass of red wine," said Catherine, who snapped her fingers and made a tray appear, with glasses and a bottle of red wine on it, before pouring for her guests.

"The day of Jeanne's execution, by burning, was horrible, of course," began Catherine, after several sips of wine. "Not only was the saviour of France going to die at the hands of the English, while the king she helped to enthrone ignored her, but my sister was going to die. The sister I looked up to and loved, and the daughter I could never replace for our parents, particularly my mother. My journey began a long time before any of this happened.

I had married the son of the mayor of Greux, a place nearby, and became pregnant soon afterwards; it was reported that I had died in childbirth, a couple of years before Jeanne was put to death. This wasn't true...obviously. My husband and I did not agree and this was not the age where a divorce could easily be obtained by people such as us. I didn't realize then just what was happening to me, regarding my magical abilities, but he thought I was crazy and dangerous, and...one morning I awoke to find him and our baby daughter gone. I asked around, but no one really liked me in the area where we lived, which wasn't near home at the time, and none would help me and basically made me leave. It was a horrible feeling and one I'll never forget. I moved on with very little in the way of possessions and tried to retrace the steps my sister had taken, hoping to meet with her again; to try to at least put one thing right. I couldn't go home. For many reasons I couldn't do that.

I had heard so much of Jeanne's story through the priests and peddlers that visited our town and the ones I spoke to in the churches I stopped at, and how each event made her stronger; how she survived being wounded and inspired the fighting men with her. Whether it proved what she thought, or did, was correct, or it neatly filled the legendary void the dormant French Court of the Dauphin needed, we will never truly know. My own opinions have changed and changed back again many times over the centuries.

It was 1430 when I heard that she had been captured. I was making do as a farm servant, only really existing and having no way of bettering my position, or making my way further to find my sister. But I went to the nearest church and prayed for her a lot. I finally decided, one day, that I would try again to go to her. I asked the monks there if they knew where she was and how I could get there. One of the monks, Brother Guillaume, became very interested and wanted to save Jeanne too and insisted on accompanying me. It's reported that a lot of religious men distanced themselves from Jeanne, which publicly was true, but there were many that believed her and were shocked by her treatment. The roads were not safe for women alone in those days, so I gladly accepted the company. I didn't know then, what I later learned about my magical abilities, or I could have saved myself a lot of time and tired feet too...and...and maybe saved my sister.

At times we had to hide, steal food, and avoid English marauding knights at various places. Guillaume dressed as an ordinary peasant farm boy, to attract less attention. With the news we picked up, from mile upon mile of walking, we heard that Jeanne was being held at the chateau of Beaurevoir. But our news was always so late in reaching us, and by the time we reached the chateau, we had been told that she had been sold to the English and had passed - after nearly four months - into English hands. Before which, she'd even been moved to Arras. Four months, and we hadn't known?! And I had been too late in setting out. People do not realize how lucky they are in this current world, with instant communications."

"Did you go on further?" asked Fleur. "Straight away?"

"Yes. We heard rumours that her final destination for trial would be Rouen, so we headed for there straight away. Of course, her trial was nearly over by the time we arrived. However, after some dangerous negotiations, I managed to creep in and see her, by posing as a woman bringing her food and taking away the bowls again. This would be her last couple of weeks of life."

"Did she know it was you?" asked Hermione, captivated by the tale.

"I'm not sure," replied Catherine. "I didn't have long at a time and there were English soldiers guarding her, and I was never sure which understood French or not. I had to speak in fast hushed whispers. I told her that I loved her and wanted her home, and that she should do anything the officials asked of her and retire quietly back to Lorraine near her family, or at least back to Órleans where our mother had always wanted to live. Although there was a sparkle of recognition in her eye, as though she knew me, it was always fleeting, and I got the impression that she wasn't the same girl at all. It's rather silly to say it, because she'd been through so much; she wasn't going to be a peasant girl any longer. But I think she wasn't completely there in spirit.

I saw her the next day and the next few days after that, and she became quieter and more aloof. But the last day I risked going to see her, she grabbed my hand, as I came to collect her bowl, and said to me: 'Take the sword back to Saint Catherine. Francis has it. Please take it back to where it belongs.'

I didn't know who Francis was - or where the sword came from - but every day I had noticed that there were several people watching the gates to her place of detention; watching and expecting something to happen. After a few days I recognized some of the same people. I got Guillaume to try and talk to two men that were always there. At first they said nothing of interest, afraid of any association, but when Guillaume revealed where he had come from and why, one of the two men opened up. The day the sentence of death was due to take place, I met these men, and even in my peasant attire, they could see that I was related to Jeanne, as they had been in her entourage from nearly the beginning. I told them what Jeanne had said to me, and one pulled back his cloak and showed me the sword, in it's red and gold scabbard. He handed it to Guillaume, as a woman with a sword, would have attracted unwanted attention, and told us to take it back to the church of Sainte-Catherine-de-Fierbois. It looked far too grand for a 'farmer's boy', such as Guillaume, so we wrapped the scabbard in some brown sack cloth and covered the hilt the same."

"You stayed and saw it happen, didn't you?" asked Fleur, almost whispering.

"I had to. I couldn't leave her to die alone among strangers," said Catherine, her voice wavering a little. "I stayed and watched her brought out, paraded like the trophy of war she was. She was so brave, so determined that she would be fine and her angels and God would look after her. I wanted to look away and tried to turn but, Francis and Guillaume told me to look and honour her by looking. So I did, and watched as the pyre of faggots caught light. The breeze was like a bellows and it wasn't long before I could hardly see through the smoke and flame, but I saw the faint outline of her body sag, and I knew she was gone. I had tears down my face, which I don't remember shedding, and my cheeks burned with the heat of the fire, even though we were a long way back.

Then there was a lot of movement: people trying to get closer and roughly pushed away; the English didn't want anyone taking souvenirs, to make Jeanne more of a martyr than she already was. It was said they burned her remains twice more to create only ash. One man was stabbed by an English halberd and fell to the ground. The crowds surged back and forth, and Francis told Guillaume and I to go, and to go quickly, before the English decided to round up every French person and take their weapons too.

We were pushed this way and that, feeling unintentional blows; but being bruised was the least of our troubles. We wanted to be away from Rouen and make our way as fast as possible back to French lands and to complete the task Jeanne had asked of me.

That night, when we were several miles away, and hiding in a forest, I felt pain in my side, and was horrified to see that I was bleeding. I had been stabbed somehow in the crush. Neither of us were good healers, but Guillaume tore up some cloth and padded my side. The bleeding stopped, but the injury made me slow, as we went on mile after mile, determined to reach the church.

However, after a couple of days it became obvious that my wound was starting to get infected. We stopped at an inn and asked if the village had a healer, or even a few cleansing herbs. An old woman visited me that evening and looked at my wound and said it needed to be cauterized with a hot poker. There wasn't a hot poker available in the room we were in, and it was summer and few folk had fires at night, where we were. She saw the sword at Guillaume's side and said that it would do, and she busied herself making a fire, heated the blade tip in it, and seared my flesh with it, dipping the tip just below the skin line, to thoroughly treat the wound inside too. It hurt a lot, I still remember the pain, but by the next day I felt better. Another day and we were back on the road. I was still slow, and we had to keep checking my wound, but it was healing and only looked cracked, dry and burned.

Finally, after many days - I do not remember _how_ many days - the church of Sainte-Catherine-de-Fierbois was on the horizon and I felt my feet feel lighter and a joy settle in my heart to accompany the pain that Jeanne would never see this little place and its church. Some nuns greeted me at the door of the church, as if they knew I was going there. They led me in procession to the altar, upon which they laid the sword, prayed over it and then moved behind the altar to lay the sword down, where it seemed to go opaque and then disappear into the stone floor.

I went to sit down on a stone bench nearby, feeling sad, overwhelmed, and unsure of what it was I had witnessed; one of the nuns came to sit with me. It was then I was told I was part veela, and had magical blood; this nun, Sister Marguerite, had a gift for seeing the veela blood and magical blood in others. After everything that had happened I couldn't even be bothered to be surprised or shocked. Sister Marguerite took me to a veela community nearby and I began to learn everything. I have no idea why she was a nun, other than it might have given her some independence to walk among both her community and the ordinary people. All the nuns there that day were part veela.

It was a week or two later, that one of the healers in the community had heard of my injury and wanted to see if I needed further healing. As she delved into my mind and body, she flinched back. It was then I learned I was immortal, and that there appeared to be some higher purpose. It took many years, and unusual events, to discover what it all meant and how I was linked to the sword through Jeanne and her last wish to me. I felt drawn to this place and didn't want to leave, and had I not been told what I was, I had considered taking holy orders and becoming a nun here too.

I had wanted to go home once or twice, but did not dare. I wasn't ashamed of what had happened, but my parents would have been.

And that is my story. I don't remember every detail of every single day, week and month, on the road, but that is the main parts of it. Maybe by returning the sword I was rewarded with a higher purpose. I do not know, only that the journey and my actions changed me forever in many different ways."

"Thank you for telling us," said Fleur. "It may not have given us an answer to our own problems, but I feel honoured to be in your presence and to hear your heart-breaking tale."

Hermione was quiet and staring straight ahead, deep in thought. Her eyes were a little red and glistening with tears.

"My dear, living forever isn't such a bad thing," said Catherine, seeing the younger woman look so troubled. "You learn to adapt and to accept each day anew. And you will have your soulmate with you."

"Did you ever try to find your daughter?" Hermione said, trying to deflect the whirl of emotions and ideas within her.

"No," said Catherine. "But Marguerite found her for me and I got to know her. She was a head strong woman. I should have expected no less. She hated her father and had found my parents, and found absolute devoted love from my mother. In time she told her the truth and my mother seemed very understanding and encouraging, but perhaps that is because she knew her own bloodline too. My mother visited me here a few times, after my father had died, but in truth our lives were very different and I couldn't go back to being a full time part of her life."

"So, you must have...your daughter...?" Hermione struggled to get her question voiced, as the idea of seeing everyone you love die, haunted her again.

"Yes, I saw my daughter buried," said Catherine, calmly. "It was hard, but I had become accustomed to the idea for many years. It didn't make it easier, but it _was_ expected. And yes, I saw her children die and her children's children and so on, to this current day."

Hermione remained quiet, only nodding her head, so Fleur reached for her hand. "Hermione? We'll do this together. We'll cope somehow...we'll..."

"It's the sword," said Hermione, suddenly, managing to gather her thoughts together. "The sword gave us all immortality."

"What?" said Fleur.

"The only event close to healing, with Catherine, involved the sword. It not only cauterized her wound and made it better, it made _everything_ better!" said Hermione. "I was skewered with it myself."

"I wasn't," said Fleur. "I used it on that horcrux, but I didn't get so much as a scratch from it."

"Because, I transferred a piece of my soul over to you, to bring you back. Don't you see?" said Hermione. "You had died, we brought you back and I immediately planted a piece of my, then, newly immortal soul within you, so when you came back to us, that was the catalyst that did the trick."

"You nearly died again?!" said Fleur. "That doesn't make sense if you were immortal by then?"

"I was coughing up enough blood to fill an Olympic-sized swimming pool," said Hermione. "I was hurt because of being newly healed, when I tore a part of my soul away to give to you. I doubted myself that I was going to survive. Stress or overdoing things might have caused the damage. I wouldn't have died, though, but maybe stayed in some kind of coma, until you gave me a piece of your soul, which was now itself immortal. That was the balance, not just of souls given and received, but of the immortality and being healed with it boosted my own system again. It's also why you didn't get ill when I did, you couldn't be harmed. It was the sword that started it!"

"Do you think this could be true?" Fleur asked Catherine.

"I've never ever thought about it with any certainty," said Catherine. "I knew the sword was special, for many reasons, and that it appeared only for those with a real need, but I never assumed that it had worked for me too!"

"It makes me wonder...," said Hermione. "...when Joan was injured, and that was well documented, I wonder if they used the sword in some way to remove an arrow, or seal her wound? If so, the sword always had a gift, and although she was burned at the stake, which was absolute, her story has lived on. She had immortality, maybe she even knew it and wanted it to end, or thought she wasn't worthy and gladly walked to her execution."

"Are you aware that she tried to end her own life?" said Catherine.

"Wasn't that before she was in English hands?" asked Hermione.

"Yes. She jumped from a tower at Beaurevoir, which was partly why they moved her to Arras, but she was only mildly injured, where most people would have died. There is talk she did it as some kind of act of faith, to see if her angels were still with her, but the fact is, she did not die," said Catherine. "Maybe you are correct. Maybe she couldn't die by any means other than fire. Maybe our bloodline fears fire, not only because of Jeanne's fate, but because it is the only thing that could kill her."

"The sword had some power to it," said Hermione. "I assume it was veela made."

"That I couldn't tell you," said Catherine, considering. "I know that, somehow, Jeanne knew it existed and it was retrieved by the person she sent to find it for her. I've always thought that she had the visions like all our line do and became sure of what she saw and how to make it a reality."

"The sword, somehow knew, it was needed for more than one action, because it didn't disappear after I destroyed the horcrux," said Fleur. "You told me that it would return, after it had finished its task. It only disappeared after Hermione had been killed with it...and..."

"... _and_ , as it turns out, made immortal with it," said Hermione, shaking her head in slight disbelief.

"I think I know why I've aged," said Catherine. "The sword has a soul of its own, linked and shared with me. But in being used on Hermione it became less. That is why I have aged to this level now."

Hermione put a hand to her mouth. "I'm so sorry..."

Catherine put up her hand to stop the brunette's apologies. "I cannot be sorry for saving two women such as yourselves, whom have both helped to preserve our world from the evil of Voldemort. It appeared for Fleur with no hesitation, so what happened was, and is, meant to be."

"Without our say in it, or our knowledge of it," said Hermione. "I'm glad we're alive, of course I am, but I never expected immortality to be dumped on to us with no warning."

Catherine stood up and went to a cabinet in the room, opening a door to it, and then feeling around the back of a shelf, before they heard a loud click and a panel slide back. When the older woman turned back, she held a thick leather-bound book, which was kept shut with leather ties; she hugged it to her for a moment, nodded and then handed it to Hermione.

"What is it?"

"The nun, Marguerite, who spoke to me that day and told me who I really was, studied me and my phenomena, all her long life and wrote down her ideas in that book. She never had an answer for how it happened, at least I don't think she did, but she always had lots of ideas about immortality and about some of the things that happened to me. She was before her time with her inquisitiveness. Please, take it and see if it can answer more of your questions than I am able to. Hearing both of you talk, I think perhaps you're the only ones that can really appreciate, or even understand, her work."

"We can't take this," said Hermione. "It means so much to you."

"Yes, it means a lot, and I still miss that woman every day," said Catherine wistfully. "But I have had centuries to own it and the contents have never made much sense to me, being illiterate before I knew my true heritage and not much of a reader after I had learned. I can honestly say I haven't read much of it at all. I know that she would have wanted you to have it. Two bright, courageous, young women."

"We'll take care of it and bring it back," said Hermione.

"No need," said Catherine. "It needs guardians who understand it better than I."

"Do you think you're not immortal now?" asked Fleur carefully.

"I'm still immortal," replied Catherine. "Just aged a bit more. I aged rapidly not long after, what we now think, happened to you two, but the last few years it hasn't got any worse, so I think I am still around for a few more years yet."

"We should get people from the community to visit you," said Hermione. "It must have been horrible, all these years, alone?"

"Not really, and I could have made myself known to them had I wanted to," said Catherine. "I'm never truly alone with nature around me and the souls of everyone I have ever loved with me. Never worry about me. _I_ don't worry about me. Visitors will always be welcome, as are the rare visitors believing they have a need for the sword, but I don't need people all the time, and never have."

The two women stayed a little longer, before they left to go back to Fleur's grandmother. Hermione had felt very emotional saying goodbye to Catherine, understanding all the new things that had become apparent and still finding it hard to comprehend that she was witness to a first-hand account of Joan of Arc's time, given to them by Joan's actual sister.

Once back in the comfort of Aimée's kitchen, the other women could see that Hermione's and Fleur's experience had been draining. Hermione gently placed the book, Catherine had given them, onto the table, before gratefully accepting a coffee. There was still so much to go through, and that was just what they had been told, let alone what the book might, or might not, hold within its pages.

 **A/N: Joan of Arc jumping from the tower is the main starting point of that French movie "Jeanne Captive". Once I thought of her sister Catherine and the sword, this chapter nearly wrote itself...then it was a question of where and how to weave it in. :)**


	24. Epilogue 2 Forever is a Long Time

**A/N: This is a definite 'M' rated chapter as it has a teeny-weeny bit of kinky stuff in it, although it's not meant to be smutty kink, but I'm sure it will be read that way for kicks by a lot of readers. :D Again, it's something I wanted to include and I hadn't seen done elsewhere to my satisfaction. It's some ideas I had from the start and wanted to include, somehow. This chapter is not my usual subject matter, but I've tried my own take on it. Try anything once and all that...**

24: EPILOGUE 2: Forever Is A Long Time

Fleur and Hermione recounted their meeting with Catherine and had a captive, astounded audience. At various points of conclusion they had arrived at, Aimée and Stefanie agreed that things sounded plausible - if talking about immortality was plausible in the first place, to even be discussed.

After many cups of coffee and a lot of discussion, Hermione picked up Sister Marguerite's book again and unwound the leather ties that had kept it shut. She carefully opened the first two pages and saw the very neat, almost manuscript-style writing. She tried reading the first sentence and she couldn't really decipher it.

"Is this in a dialect of French, which I don't know?" asked Hermione, handing the book to Aimée.

Aimée glanced at the page, and flicked carefully to another page. "I cannot read it very well, only words here and there. I think it's in a mixture of Latin and the Old French adopted at royal courts and in the clergy."

There was a tired sigh from Fleur. "So we need to find someone who can read it all?"

"Or perform a translation charm?!" suggested Stefanie.

Fleur put her hand to her face and knuckled an eye. "Of course, why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you're very tired, my beautiful one," said Aimée, softly.

"Oh, give her some 'restorer'!" said Stefanie. "Hermione too. Actually _all_ of us!"

Hermione had heard of the 'restorer' before and seen Stefanie have it a few times many years ago. She had never asked more about it and hadn't seen it being prepared. "Is it a potion?"

"Yes, and a very good one and not just for healers like me. But it has a few hard to find ingredients, which is why Aimée protects her stocks so much," said Stefanie, as Aimée reappeared from her workroom with a little bottle and measured a teaspoon into everyone's coffee.

Taking a taste, Hermione couldn't detect anything other than coffee, but within moments she felt more awake, and ready to walk miles, should it be needed. By the looks on Fleur's and Sophie's faces, they were also experiencing the same surprising energy.

A very much more invigorated Fleur got hold of the book, opened it to the first page and performed a complex translation spell, putting it into English so any of them could read it. "I want to make sure I cover the fact this nun might have used many forms, or dialects."

A few moments later, Fleur was smiling. "It's worked." She slid the book to Hermione to see and she passed it to Aimée for the others to see.

"Well, we have the translation, but we have a lifetime's work of notes to read through," said Fleur, sounding down-hearted again.

"I'll read it," said Hermione. "I've always been good at speed-reading. If I make a start, it might not take many days. If you're all okay with me doing this?"

"That is fine with me," said Stefanie.

"And with me," said Aimée. "I would suggest that you read it in blocks, make your own notes and share anything with us, which touches on anything to do with the subject, that appears possible, odd, or different to what you expect."

"I'll make a start," said Hermione. "If you don't mind, I think I'll take it back to the cottage and I can even lie down as I read it. Some of my best ideas have come to me while lying down."

"That's _very_ true," said Fleur, drily, which made Stefanie chuckle.

Even after all these years of being used to the humour, Hermione did not avoid blushing. "Anyway, we'll leave now and I can get started."

The first session of reading made Hermione a little frustrated, as Sister Marguerite often wrote things as she would in a diary, and every sentence about the weather and whether the blackbirds were singing at the same time that day, was another sentence that added very little to Hermione's searched-for knowledge and only added mild irritation.

By the second day there were a lot more theories, and once or twice Hermione put the book down and really had to concentrate and think through the things the nun had written. It was quickly becoming clear that, had the nun lived in the 21st Century, she would have been top of her field in some kind of science or natural science. The things Marguerite was thinking and considering, in her own time, would have been enough to have had her questioned on charges of witchcraft and heresy, and very likely executed. Ironically, actually being part magical and part veela, had saved her from those dangers.

By the fourth day Hermione wasn't getting bored with the book at all, and was getting used to Marguerite's turn of phrase, and her way of thinking, and enjoying everything she read. She tried to piece things together and report back to their group about any of the things that seemed important.

On the fifth day Hermione gave a little yelp, as she looked at a tiny scruffy scrawl in the margin of the book, next to a paragraph on the sword.

"What is it?" asked Fleur, who had insisted on staying around Hermione and bringing her food and drink as needed.

"Marguerite _knew_!" said Hermione. "Well, she _considered,_ that the sword was the cause of Catherine's immortality. It looks like an after thought, but she believed it could be that. I don't think she ever told Catherine, and Catherine was truthful when she said she hadn't read much of this."

The news about the scrawled margin note was exciting to the occupants of Aimée's house, but Hermione was determined to read to the end, not even minding how the handwriting had become more scruffy and smaller as the book filled up. She knew she would have completed, and absorbed, the contents of the book within the next couple of days.

Hermione realized, as she read onwards, that Marguerite was getting older, or ill, and that was why the writing had deteriorated and some sentences were less coherent. The last few pages she had to read again and ended up reading them several times, because she was sure she had read them incorrectly. Each time she looked up, to concentrate her mind on what she had read, Fleur looked up at her. The Frenchwoman was concerned after the third or fourth time Hermione had done this, and thought that Hermione looked like she wanted to cry.

"What's wrong, my love?" Fleur asked softly. She could see that Hermione was at the last couple of pages and seemingly stuck on them. "Are there no answers for us, after all?"

Hermione looked up, but was miles away and almost looked through Fleur; then she shook her head slightly, and looked down to read the last couple of pages again, following along with her finger under each word. However, once the pages had been read yet another time, she looked up with more purpose.

"We need to see those diaries of Luna's again," said Hermione, breaking the silence. "And maybe Luna herself, as she knows those diaries off by heart, and in the _way_ we need them to be known."

"Do we even know where she is?" asked Fleur.

"I'll send my patronus," said Hermione. She stood up and immediately her otter patronus appeared and she gave it some words. 'Luna, we need your help with the diaries, again!'

It was early evening when Fleur and Hermione went to Aimée's house, and the three women there were full of questions, which Hermione refused to answer this time.

"I will tell you everything, after I try to confirm something, I promise," said Hermione. "If I find what I'm looking for, it will make a lot of sense, if I don't, then there isn't much to tell except...except the last hopes and regrets of a dying old lady."

"Marguerite was dying?" asked Fleur.

"Yes, that's why the last entries became a bit scruffy and fragmented. I think she was dying and she knew it too," said Hermione, swallowing hard.

There was a noise outside, followed by a knock on the kitchen door. Sophie opened the door to see Luna standing there. She hadn't aged as much as some of their friends, and she was as enthusiastic as ever and pleased to see everyone. She had apparently been in England, for once, when the patronus reached her.

After everyone had exchanged pleasantries, Hermione said, "I want to talk to Luna alone for a few minutes. And I promise, to tell you what it's about afterwards, whatever the outcome."

"Your old room is still free upstairs," said Aimée. "You can go there and be undisturbed."

Hermione put Marguerite's book under her arm and got Luna to follow her with her diaries, which she handed to her from the table. They reached the room, and Hermione closed the door behind them and then cast the _Muffliato_ charm, to stop things being overheard, something she hadn't cast for a very long time.

"Well, this is interesting," said Luna, as she sat in a comfy chair beside the bed.

"I'm sorry for all the intrigue and secrecy," said Hermione, sitting on the side of the bed. "I need to be sure of something, before I say it, and you're the best person to ask."

Although Luna had spent many years finally being liked for being herself, and being understood by more people, she still gave a beaming smile when she heard that she was needed for her skills. "I'll try to help in whatever way I can."

Explaining in the briefest way possible, to her old friend, about the whole issue of Fleur and herself and their immortality, Hermione gave Luna the theories, up to the current point. The blonde woman hardly blinked an eye at the subject of immortality.

"I thought it might be something like that," said Luna. "I know the veela community retain their youth longer than most, but it always had to be something more with you and Fleur. Until now I couldn't quite put my finger on it."

"Well, now I need you to put your finger, and your mind, on those diaries," said Hermione.

Fleur was not disgruntled at being left downstairs, as she understood how Hermione worked and knew she would be told everything soon, but the time it was taking was making her fidgety and it made her mind go off in a hundred different directions, as to what it was that had got Hermione so agitated.

"We'll all know soon enough," said Aimée, trying to keep her obviously restless granddaughter calm.

It was approaching two hours when they finally heard steps on the landing above them and then on the stairs. Hermione and Luna wore different expressions; the former looked slightly pale, exhausted and emotional, whereas Luna just looked like Luna, accepting whatever it was that had been discussed between them.

"I'll go now," said Luna. "You'll want some privacy."

"You don't have to, yet," said Hermione. "I'd like you here to help if I miss or forget anything."

Luna smiled and sat on a free chair at the kitchen table, gratefully accepting a cup of coffee, which seemed to have been continuously on the go for several days.

Fleur reached for Hermione's hand and guided her to the chair next to her. "Is it bad news?"

"It's neither bad, nor good," said Hermione, taking a sip of some coffee herself. "It's not that type of news."

"We're here for you both, whatever it is you've found," said Aimée.

"I think some things we got right and some things we got wrong," began Hermione. "Joan was immortal, but when she died she wasn't. Yes, I know how ridiculous that sounds! What I mean is, that fire wasn't necessarily the thing that ended her immortality. She willingly gave her life for her cause, somehow knowing that her legend would be more powerful, down the ages, than anything she could do in her more mortal form. We know she tried to kill herself and that didn't work, because she might have been testing herself, and it was a fruitless reason for doing it. When she accepted her fate at her trial, and her death, that is when her immortality ceased...or at least, it's what Luna and I think. It's not unlike Harry knowing he had to die in order to live."

"It seems a bit obivous that you have to die, to give away your immortality?" questioned Fleur. "I know...I know it's not the 'obvious' things we're looking at."

"Exactly. In this case, it's giving something else life: a legend, a cause, a thought," said Hermione. "When I became immortal, I had hardly been that way before I was giving a piece of my soul to you. That is why I became ill, because I nearly gave my whole immortal - and therefore mortal - life to you. Thankfully the balance with our souls restored my health, but I could literally have been in a permanent coma, if you hadn't done what you did at that moment. I might even have been dying very slowly and stayed dead."

"As weird as this all seems, it's making a bit of sense, even to me, so far," said Sophie.

"So far," said Hermione, with a quirk of a smile. "Sister Marguerite had reached similar conclusions. Catherine had been very sad when Marguerite's health began to fail and she had begged the nun to find some way that, she too, could die with her. It was only in the final entries that Marguerite had a theory on how this could have been achieved."

"And you think it might work?" asked Fleur.

"You haven't heard what it is yet," said Hermione, seriously.

"Is it about taking someone else's life...then maybe...it's making a horcux of our immortal part of our souls, to expell it, without killing ourselves?!" suggested Fleur, with dread.

Hermione held her partner's hand. "That might work, but that's not what Luna and I were discussing. The clue came from the realization that you willingly ' _gave something else life'_. It was not about taking one, or ending one. 'Gave a life' - giving something a life - ends the immortality, and Marguerite, in her last entry, realized with great regret and sadness that that could also mean having a child. It was something she wished she had discovered many years before, when it was possible for her to do something about it. She loved Catherine, _really_ loved her. I think that Catherine perhaps shared that feeling, but they never took things further. Marguerite then wrote a sentence about 'the old veela way' of doings things, in time of great need for their race, and that it might have been the answer, and she would have gladly taken the life given to her by Catherine."

There was a silence in the room as everyone tried to take in what Hermione, and Sister Marguerite, were suggesting.

"This is why I brought Luna here, to see if anything was mentioned in the diaries. Any folklore we overlooked before as merely rubbish old stories and tales for around the camp fire in winter," said Hermione.

"It wasn't obvious, but we located an instance or two that might indicate it," said Luna, her head on one side, still thinking deeply.

"Yes," said Hermione. "And forgive me if I speak out of turn on these matters, but you have to know and might even have heard about it. It was said that at times in veela history, when numbers decreased for one reason or another, you had a way to reproduce without having to attract males. If this wasn't so serious, I should probably be embarrassed but..."

"I know of what you speak of," said Stefanie. "I've come across it, and not just because I'm a healer. I've only heard of a couple of people who have tried it in recent decades, though."

Hermione looked to Stefanie. "You said Fleur and I are the same as we were in 1998, if so, then we aren't too old for it to be feasible?"

"No. Even at your real ages it would be possible...," said Stefanie. "...but, Hermione I don't think, with you not being veela..."

"That's part isn't important...really," said Hermione

"Oh, _that_!" said Aimée with realization. "I haven't heard about that for many a year."

"What are you talking about? Have we got to get some random male and become pregnant?" asked Fleur worriedly.

"No. All we need is you." Taking Fleur's hand in her own again, Hermione looked into her eyes. "I believe I can end our immortality, not by death but by carrying your child, or in this case at least accepting the notion of that gift. As I'm not veela it won't work on the level it's supposed to, but the act - going through the motions- might be enough. Willingly give life to a cause and wanting that selfless cause, for each other, more than anything."

"Carry...my child?" said Fleur, astounded.

"Yes...it's possible," said Stefanie. "Veelas are very adaptable beings when we need to be. Take some of our closely related sirens cousins as an example; sometimes they didn't see any men for decades, yet they kept their population healthy. Especially when men started to avoid their islands from fear; they couldn't count on shipwrecks alone." The German veela paused. "As I said, it's not possible for Hermione to get pregnant. With no veela blood it wouldn't work. Sorry to be blunt, but in this case it would be like a cat trying to mate with a dog. But your reason and need for the act itself has the same strong sentiment."

"I thought that might be the case." Hermione nodded to Stefanie, then turned back to Fleur. "It's the act and emotional attachment that might count here. That's if you want to stop being immortal? We both have to agree and be sure of it, because if either of us are half-hearted, then it has no chance of working. This is a mental as well as a physical challenge."

"I don't know what I think," said Fleur, looking overwhelmed and a little flummoxed. "I don't even know what it is, to even know what to think about it?!"

"If everyone doesn't mind, perhaps Fleur, Stefanie and I, could go to the cottage and discuss things more," suggested Hermione.

"Yes, by all means do. It's a very personal thing you're suggesting," said Aimée. "But whatever you decide, you have my support."

"I _will_ get going now," said Luna, smiling.

Hermione went to Luna and hugged her. "Thanks so much for your help."

"Any time, you know you can always count on me," said Luna, then she felt a little awkward. "Good luck with whatever you decide...with whatever happens."

"I'll keep Aimée company," said Sophie with a reassuring smile. Stefanie went over and leaned down to kiss the top of her partner's head before she, Fleur and Hermione left through the door, after Luna, and went to the cottage.

In the relaxing setting of the cottage, Fleur, Hermione and Stefanie sat down in their sitting room area.

"I'm not sure I really understand yet?!" said Fleur, tired and frustrated at her lack of comprehension.

Stefanie indicated to Hermione to explain the theory she had arrived at.

"Fleur, there is a way that a female veela partner could have your child," said Hermione, looking straight at her partner, openly and directly. "I believe that if I willingly give my life to having a child with you - submit to the idea, anyway - and that you do too, that it will take our immortality, without killing us, or anyone else. A true devoted act of love and need. Not unlike when you first gave me a piece of your soul at Shell Cottage and when we ensouled each other again. But this time there needs to be a catalyst, and an act with meaning and this is it. There might be other ways, but I don't want to spend as many years as Marguerite to try and find them. This is the main theory she arrived at and I trust it too."

"That's what I thought you meant, about having _my_ child," said Fleur, then she frowned. "But how?"

"It's believed - or from what Stefanie says - it's true, that veelas can adapt themselves to the situation, to reproduce when no males can be found," said Hermione.

"Adapt?!" Fleur said, and then it hit her. "I can do _THAT_?! I heard something at Beauxbatons, but everyone was laughing about it being made up nonsense. And mostly we thought it was a bit perverted."

"Yes, it's possible and no, it's not perverted," said Stefanie, with no hint of amusement. "It's unusual these days, because so many of us are part veela and with the way everyone travels, it is not so hard to find a willing partner to act, but that doesn't mean it can't still be used."

"Does it mean I have to change in some way?" asked a very wary Fleur.

"Only a charm that is temporary," said Stefanie, realizing that Fleur was disturbed by the thought of being changed for good.

"And you would do this, Hermione?" Fleur asked.

"If that is what you want as well," replied Hermione. "We have to both want the same thing. I would live my immortal life with you, if that is what you want. I admit I would like to try this, but we have to agree. If you don't want this, then we don't try it."

"You would honestly go through this with me?" Fleur asked, again seeking confirmation and feeling slightly dumbfounded.

Hermione looked back at her determinedly. "Yes, without hesitation. I know you might like to experience this 'thing' yourself, but I cannot suddenly become part-veela and change my physiology like you can, or not usefully in the way we need it to work, so it has to be this way or not at all. And we both have to want this and give ourselves to it, or it won't stand any chance of freeing us. Not that spending forever with you is a burden, or an imprisonment, but, I personally don't want to see everyone we know die before us, and know that everyone we ever grow to care for afterwards, will also die before us."

Fleur was silent, deep in in thought.

"I assume when this was done in the past with the veelas, that any child was always female?" Hermione asked Stefanie, interested.

"Yes, because of the method of conception, but as long as there was a next generation it was not a problem," explained Stefanie.

"What are the risks with this?" asked Fleur.

"We stay immortal," offered Hermione.

"And physically the charm wears off," said Stefanie. "From what we've said, I think as long as you both are willing to give your life to this and go through the motions, so to speak, that the immortality thing stands a chance of working. As I said, the charm will wear off."

"That's what I thought too," said Hermione. "I can see why it would be a concern, but it must always have worn off."

"Like any charm related to appearance, it is not permanent," said Stefanie reassuringly.

"Have you ever witnessed...or...?" Hermione tried to say, but was a bit embarrassed to ask further.

"No, I have never tried the charm, myself," said Stefanie with a smile. "But I know of two people that have. And it was more for educational experiment, than to actually complete the process it was designed for."

Fleur leaned forward, resting her head on her clasped hands, in a pose another might take as prayer. She rocked her head a couple of times, deep in thought, rubbed at her tired eyes, and took a few calming breaths.

"All right," Fleur finally said, looking up to Hermione. "I would like to try it. And you?"

Hermione looked close to tears. "Yes. I would like to do this. Since I discovered, and thought about this, I've become more certain of it."

"Is there much preparation needed?" Fleur asked Stefanie.

"I will write out the instructions on how to cast the charm you need," said Stefanie, taking a notebook from a nearby table and using a pen Hermione passed to her, to scribble down what the women needed to know. "This is a very private time for you both and I will not be here or nearby to intrude upon the delicate space. But from how I understand things now, it is up to you two, to devote yourself to your course of action and try to make it work. After a day or so, I can check you and find out what has happened: if anything has changed and whether you're still immortal or not."

A few moments later, Stefanie stopped writing, tore the page from the notebook, folded it and handed it to Fleur.

"Thank you," said Hermione, feeling a little overwhelmed herself, now they had decided to go ahead with her idea.

Stefanie looked from Hermione to Fleur. "I'm going to leave, now. But, remember, we're only a call away, even if you don't want to do this and just want to talk. We're all here for you."

Fleur and Hermione both embraced Stefanie and thanked her for her help as she left them.

"Are you really okay with this?" Hermione asked when they were alone.

"I'm still a little shocked," said Fleur. "Now I know what happens won't be permanent, I'm feeling better about it. But are you okay with the choice you would have to make...to, you know...with me, like that? Really?"

"Yes. If it's my pure love for you and for making us both happy, and gives us a chance at a more normal life, then yes, I'm very sure and very ready for that. I'm only sorry that I cannot do the same for you, to share the same experience."

The two women held each other tightly and shared a tender kiss. "When will we do this?" asked Fleur.

"When we both feel ready," said Hermione.

"I'm ready to be ready," said Fleur, kissing Hermione again, before breaking off and grinning. "We've never ever been destined for anything simple in life!"

Fleur took the piece of paper to the small table and unfolded it, Hermione joining her to read it together. The paper held a basic three-step guide to performing the charm, with a couple of side notes and that was about it. Some of it was quite vague, as Stefanie had concentrated on the charms Fleur needed to work.

"The charm seems a bit more complicated than I thought, but with those steps, it's made it easier," said Fleur.

"You think you can cast it?" asked Hermione. "The first step I haven't considered or seen in use before."

"It's a preparation for a charm that has any veela connection," replied Fleur. "I used it before, when casting that charm all those years ago, to get you back from that Lestrange man."

"It won't be _that_ dangerous, will it?"

"No," said Fleur. "It's only a preparation, not that actual charm I used back then. It's a bit like making a cake and having eggs, sugar and flour, before deciding whether to turn it into a chocolate cake or another type. It's the foundation, that's all."

"I don't suppose Stefanie would even allow you to try it, if it had any connection to that other charm, regardless that you're currently immortal."

"Well, we hope we won't be after this."

Hermione read the paper again, about the charm Fleur had to cast, which to an ordinary witch - even an above average, intelligent witch - seemed a complex combination of things. But Hermione knew that Fleur was brilliant with charms and being veela made any of this possible.

"Should we try this tonight? Now?" asked Fleur.

"If you feel ready?" questioned Hermione.

"I am," said Fleur, and she cupped Hermione's cheek. "Are you? Really?"

"I'm a little nervous," said Hermione. "Probably only the same as you, but I'm ready."

"If this doesn't work," said Fleur. "I want you to know that spending forever with you, doesn't scare me."

Wrapping her arms around the Frenchwoman, Hermione held her partner close. "I know. I feel the same."

They both decided to have a bath first that night, as they methodically made sure everything was in place in their bedroom, and everything was comfortable and as relaxed as possible.

Then Fleur said to Hermione that she wanted to perform the charm in the bathroom alone and that she wanted to make sure she concentrated and got it right, as well as admitting that she would need a moment to get used to things, and that she would feel odd or even discomfort to begin with.

Hermione was a little disappointed she wouldn't get to see the charm take effect, as such, but she understood there were other things at stake than her curiosity, and she thought how she might feel if the roles were reversed and how self-conscious and nervous she would be. She pulled Fleur to her for a kiss, and held her close. Both of them were already naked, and revelled in their scents and delicate touch.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," said Fleur.

"If you need help, or anything, please call for me," said Hermione. "Don't suffer alone. And if it feels all wrong, then we won't do it, okay?"

Fleur nodded and made her way into the bathroom. She had the piece of paper Stefanie had written out and read it through one more time, before settling herself, trying to block out nervousness and fear of what might happen next. Then she picked up her wand and began the preparation charm, before moving to the next steps.

Back in the room, Hermione sat on the bed, not knowing what to think and trying to imagine what things might look like. She had learned fairly soon, into her relationship with Fleur that, in comparison, she didn't like the look of male genitalia and only being with Fleur had made her consider it at all. She thought male genitalia looked a bit ugly and all the anatomical tomes she had read and things she had seen on the internet had not made her think differently. So, naturally, she wondered what Fleur's new veela appendage might be like and then realized how awful it would be, for someone like Fleur, to consider changing herself like that and be worried that she wouldn't go back to normal.

It was different to when they both became Harry, all those years ago, to act as decoys. Although aware that they had everything that Harry was equipped with, it wasn't actually functioning as such. It was literally no different to wearing a different pair of pants, only they were wearing Harry's body. With all the danger of that night, there had been little time to consider what they had _in_ their pants.

After several minutes, Hermione heard a noise, somewhere between a groan and a gasp. "Fleur? You okay?" she called through the door.

"Yeah," said Fleur, sounding strained. "I'm fine. Or as fine as..." The rest of the sentence was mumbled and Hermione didn't catch it all. It was another few minutes before Fleur spoke again. "I'm...I'm ready...are...are you?" she asked, haltingly.

"Yes," said Hermione. "Don't be afraid, we're in this together."

Fleur opened the bathroom door and Hermione couldn't help but look down, but Fleur had her hands over her lower regions.

"It's...it's ugly," said Fleur. "And it hurt a little to begin with."

Hermione stood up, wrapped her arms around Fleur's neck and kissed her softly on the lips. "Nothing about you could ever be ugly. We'll be really careful to begin with."

Sitting back on the edge of the bed, Hermione pulled Fleur's arm to get her to walk in front of her and gently prised her hands away from her groin. There in front of her was a medium-sized penis-shaped organ, but no scrotum. To Hermione, there was nothing that ugly about it at all. She held Fleur by the hips and with one hand gently touched Fleur's adapted body part with her fingers. Fleur flinched and Hermione stopped and took her hand away.

"Is if painful?" Hermione asked, concerned. "If it is, we won't do this. I won't have you in pain."

Fleur sat down a little awkwardly, next to Hermione, and sighed. "It's not painful, just very sensitive. It's...this _'thing'_ is actually my clit."

"I wondered if that might be what happened," said Hermione. "It was a bit vague on the notes. It must feel different to when we were Harry years ago?"

" _VERY_ different," said Fleur. "I didn't have any feeling with the lump in my underwear then, but this thing...I'm _very_ aware of it."

For some reason, in Hermione's mind, something sparked off at that moment, thinking of how hard Fleur's clit would get for her when they made love and realizing that this would be a magnification of that. That knowledge aroused her. She turned and leaned over to kiss Fleur, slowly and gently, as a hand caressed a breast, and as they continued to kiss, with Fleur relaxing a little more, Hermione lightly dropped a hand to Fleur's penis and held it and lightly stroked it, loving that Fleur was moaning into her mouth and squirming.

Encouraging Fleur to lie back on the bed properly, Hermione gently lowered herself, straddling one of Fleur's thighs, and making sure her full weight wasn't on Fleur's tender place, yet. She kissed her lover more thoroughly, rubbing her hand over the nipple of a breast, dropping her head to take the nipple into her mouth, before raising herself back up to kiss Fleur's lips.

Hermione had no experience with a penis, but that didn't particularly matter in this case; she held to the erotic image in her mind that this was Fleur's need for her swollen to incredible proportions. She slid a hand down her lover's body and rested it between her legs, and gently began stroking Fleur. Hermione knew she must be doing something right, as Fleur's remaining female parts were getting wet for her and she even entered her with her fingers for a few teasing thrusts, before going back to her goal. It enlarged slightly and became hard and straight.

Fleur flipped them over, with the slightest of breathy growls and lavished attention to Hermione's breasts and worked lower down, rubbing at the brunette's centre, dipping in and out of her with her fingers.

"Are you sure?" Fleur asked, her eyes dark with desire and her breathing nearly coming in pants.

"Yes," said Hermione. "We both have to want this more than anything."

"That's the easy part, for me," said Fleur, as she continued to drag her fingers up and down Hermione's nether lips.

"Please," said Hermione. "Let's do this."

Fleur leaned over, looked into Hermione's eyes, before kissing her thoroughly. Then she positioned herself between Hermione's open legs and placed the tip of her adapted organ at Hermione's opening.

"I love you," said Fleur.

"I love you," said Hermione.

And with that, Fleur gently slid herself inside Hermione, gasping at the warm wetness she could feel. Hermione's hips rose off the bed to meet her, taking all of her lover inside. They both stayed still for a little while, as they grew accustomed to the feeling, but it wasn't long before Fleur had to start rocking her hips, sliding in and out of Hermione.

"Oh...this feels...good," said Hermione, her head thrown back, with one of her hands around Fleur and the other grabbing handfuls of sheet.

Fleur leaned down and kissed her lover, as she rocked her hips in a knowing rhythm. She kissed Hermione's neck and ear; her body was feeling such intense sensations, in a slightly different way, and she couldn't help uttering rather blunt sentences. "You feel so good. You're so wet, my darling."

This made Hermione's breath hitch and she moaned more. She could never have imagined doing this with a man, but with Fleur, whom she utterly trusted, and whom at this moment was making her feel divine, she had no reservations or regrets.

Fleur began to thrust a bit more purposefully, feeling her climax coming soon and feeling Hermione close as well, going by the way her inner walls were trying to deliciously grip her and pull her in deeper.

"My love," said Fleur, her words breaking up, as she moved in and out of Hermione. "Those thoughts, those devoted...things...we need to be doing that now...I'm soon going to...to...come."

Hermione tried hard to take her mind off what she was feeling, to think about what was needed, but it was difficult when her thoughts were saying things like: _I'm being thoroughly fucked by Fleur!_ But somehow she regained some control and thought deeply about wanting nothing more than to have Fleur's child and to give life to that theoretical child. "I love you Fleur, and I want this with you more than anything. I love you so much."

"I love you, my darling," said Fleur. She was close to tears, as realization of what she was doing suddenly hit her, and in multiple ways.

Hermione felt Fleur slow down and stop, so she pulled her down and kissed her, before looking into her eyes. "I want this, I want our lives back so much. Don't be scared. It's just us...and...and please don't stop what you're doing." She gave a breathy laugh.

It had the desired effect and Fleur began rolling her hips more, her thrusts faster and more frantic. They both felt a mild tingling sensation, which was hard to differentiate whether it was immortality wearing off, or just the tingling of a climax coming. Neither of them knew what to expect. After a few more thrusts, Fleur stopped, then groaned, as she felt something surge through her, like fire, and it made her hips thrust once more into the woman she loved. She thought about how much she loved Hermione and that she would give her the world if she could, and gladly give her own life for her.

Hermione had felt something hot inside her, not a liquid as she might have expected, just heat, and she came hard gripping Fleur firmly, her inner walls clenching and unclenching their grip on Fleur's appendage. She too, thought about how much she wanted her life with Fleur to be back to normal, how much she loved her and how much she would willingly do for her, even give her own life for her if she had to. She felt tears in her eyes from such a powerful experience, and saw that Fleur to was still close to tears.

After a few moments, Fleur slowly slid out of Hermione and lay to one side. She was still self-conscious and draped a corner of sheet over her groin area.

"Did you feel something strange?" asked Fleur.

"Heat," said Hermione. "Not fluid, as I'd expect from something like this, but heat. It felt weird and amazing."

"Were you really okay?" asked Fleur, concerned, as she brushed away a stray tear from Hermione's cheek. "I know I'm always worrying about hurting you, but this was different: I felt the heat myself and I know you've never had a..."

"No...true, but your's was a perfect fit. It didn't hurt at all," replied Hermione, still so flushed that her blush didn't show. "I felt really emotional when it happened."

"Me too."

"How long did Stefanie write that you'll have this?"

"Could be a few hours," replied Fleur.

Hermione flipped back the sheet. "Don't hide yourself. It's all you, just sized and shaped differently for the moment."

Fleur had let a disconcerted expression reach her face, as she let the sheet fall back to cover herself again. _Maybe this is what she really wants after all?_ she thought.

"No," said Hermione, guessing what was troubling Fleur. "I do not want a man instead of you. And I love you just the way you are. You've always been more than enough for me. I won't lie, that this felt amazing, but that's just because of the novelty and the reason for why we're doing it. But if this never happens again I won't pine for it."

The younger woman kissed Fleur on the lips and trailed kisses down her neck before working back to her lips. "However, you're so beautiful even with it," she whispered. "Be a waste not to use it."

Hermione trailed kisses down Fleur's chest, flipped back the sheet again and worked her way to her lover's penis. She took it into her mouth and moved her tongue around it. She could feel Fleur flinch slightly, and resorted to licking the length of it. She couldn't hide a smile as she felt Fleur start to go hard.

"At this moment, I don't care if we're still immortal or not," said Hermione, as she guided and lowered herself down onto Fleur, loving the feel of her lover inside her again, as she gently rolled her hips.

Fleur didn't protest and moved her hands forward to cup and play with Hermione's breasts. She briefly lowered a hand and rubbed at her partner's clit for a while too, loving seeing Hermione take control to lose control, like this. As Hermione was basically riding her clit - and if she thought about it in that way - Fleur lost more of her inhibitions about it all.

After a few minutes, Fleur sat up and flipped them over, lying between Hermione's spread thighs, sliding herself in and out of her partner. Fleur was feeling more bold and accepting of this temporary state of affairs, and slowed her actions down, only wiggling her hips every so often, ignoring her own need to pump away. She kissed Hermione deeply on the lips and caressed her breasts. She then stopped all movement and cupped Hermione's cheek, pressing gentle pecking kisses on her lips.

Hermione continued to move her hips, not wanting the sensations to stop, trying to wriggle her way to her goal. She opened her eyes and looked up at Fleur, who was smiling down at her. She pulled her down for a thorough kiss, as she snaked a hand around to Fleur's buttock, squeezing it and trying to press her back into the rhythm she needed.

"Don't stop," said Hermione, panting, looking back up at Fleur.

Fleur smiled, before she kissed her way to Hermione's ear, licking at the ear lobe. "Say it. Say what you want?!"

"What? What I want?" asked the befuddled brunette

To emphasize, Fleur asked the same question and moved her hips.

"I'm not sure...what...you're asking me?" said Hermione. "But for now, please just fuck me!"

Fleur laughed, as she loved to hear Hermione struggle with herself in embarrassment and then be completely frank. "Right answer!" she said, as she began to move against Hermione again. This time she wasn't going to stop, this time it was about pure love and lust as well. They both came hard, ready for the explosion of heat that accompanied it this time.

Never likely to be completely happy with her physiology at this time, the two women curled up to sleep, with Fleur hugging Hermione from behind. It saved her having to deal with Hermione looking at her more than was necessary. Fleur hoped that when she woke up she would be back to normal, not only because she didn't like the look of it, but also because it was quite sensitive and made her feel less in control of her physical feelings.

The pair had been asleep for a few hours, when Fleur woke up; she didn't know why and assumed she needed to stretch her arms or legs and settle herself again. As she moved slightly, she felt her very sensitive nether regions. She moved a hand down and found she still had her veela penis and it was hard. It turned her on, as her fingers felt her swollen organ.

She decided to sort herself out and try not to disturb Hermione, so she rubbed the length of herself, trying hard to keep quiet. After a couple of minutes, she felt Hermione move and reach a hand back and feel what Fleur was doing.

"I'm here...if you need me," said a sleepy Hermione.

"What?"

Hermione stayed on her side, facing away from Fleur, but moved slightly and reached back for Fleur's hand and guided it to her groin from behind. Fleur let out a breath of realization.

"Go on," said Hermione. "Please."

Fleur moved a hand along Hermione's outer thigh and moved the woman's legs a little, placing her hand between them, to find a very moist place waiting for her. She shuffled forwards and guided herself inside Hermione, causing the brunette to moan loudly. Fleur wrapped an arm around Hermione, moving her hand to fondle a breast and rub a palm over an erect nipple, before reaching around and rubbing her fingers against Hermione's clit, as she thrust into her from behind.

Hermione threw her head back, everything feeling amazing, and Fleur leaned over and captured her lips, however awkward it was. As she thrust her hips more purposefully, she held onto Hermione's outer hip and thigh, knowing she was nearly humping her partner as an animal might do. But, Hermione put her hand over Fleur's hand, connecting them further, and in minutes they were moaning each other's name loudly.

Loving how it felt, Fleur left herself inside Hermione a while longer, gently moving her hips from time to time, enjoying the movements she caused Hermione to make involuntarily.

Fleur kissed Hermione's neck and shoulder and whispered. "I'm sorry about that."

"Sorry?"

"It seems in this state, I can hardly control myself."

"Don't be sorry," said Hermione, pushing herself back on to Fleur's appendage, making the Frenchwoman sigh and grimace at the same time, from the sensitivity of that part of her. "I liked it. And perhaps giving into it, is part of the giving up immortality that we need."

Hermione continued to keep rubbing herself back against Fleur, guessing what it was doing to her partner. She moved forward, enough for Fleur to slide out, then turned and lowered herself on to Fleur again. She moved gently to begin with, but then set up an almost grinding motion. Fleur sat up as if to flip them over, but Hermione stopped her this time, and pinned the blonde woman back down, as she squirmed and rode her lover, her breasts bouncing in rhythm. Fleur did manage to sit up and took a nipple into her mouth, holding Hermione onto her, the brunette wrapping her legs around Fleur as she sat in her partner's lap.

Not stopping her movements for long, Hermione began to rotate her hips and deliberately clench her inner walls, to grab hold of Fleur. In no time they were holding each other tight as they both came, Hermione riding her partner for all she was worth, gasping and moaning loudly with every movement. They both went still, kissed and held each other. It was as they stayed like this that, after a time, Hermione felt Fleur slide out of her; she looked into her lover's face and moved back, to see that Fleur was now entirely back to normal, in those few moments.

"It was interesting while it lasted," said Fleur. "But I didn't really like being dictated to, by how 'it' was feeling! Bad enough when it's in its usual state!"

"Tonight was very special," said Hermione. "But in all honesty, I'm glad you're back to normal, because I know you were uneasy about the whole thing. I love you just the way you are." She put a hand between them and gently caressed her partner's nether lips. "I'm exhausted now."

"I'm exhausted too," said Fleur. "Let's hope it means it's worked."

The couple kissed, long and tenderly, the heightened passion gone and a desire for closeness taking priority, as they settled back to sleep holding each other.

 **A/N: Not my usual subject matter...the thing I usually detest is: adapted penis anatomy. :) Normally it's done for kinky reasons just to go through the usual check-list of magical f/f sex story situations. But I wanted to do something a bit different with the idea and actually give it some back story and meaning. It will probably still be seen as smut/kinky, but it wasn't written with only that in mind. :)**


	25. Epilogue 3 Mortality

**A/N: Final chapter...or the second final chapter if you prefer it to end at chapter 22. Some may not like where this goes...**

 **If you liked the story...great, nice to have you spending your time with my pretentious, curdled mind. Scary ain't it?! :)**

 **If you hated this story...ahh well, sorry to have wasted your time, I can't give you those minutes back. At least it was free. :)**

25: EPILOGUE 3: Mortality

Next day, both women still felt exhausted. In some ways they weren't surprised, after their night, but in other ways they wondered if they had succeeded in giving away their immortality, or if it had all been a bizarre night for nothing, and it was only ordinary exhaustion and nothing more.

The day after that, they were still feeling very tired and drained and they decided to call Stefanie over to see them. The German veela wasn't long in arriving, and where they had expected some crude suggestive innuendos, they found their friend very serious. She looked at Fleur first and placed a hand at her temple and one on her chest. After a few minutes, Stefanie took her hands away.

"Can you tell anything?" Fleur asked.

"Yes," said Stefanie and nodded. "You're no longer immortal."

Fleur sighed with relief: a relief she didn't know she would experience. Then she looked at Hermione with a suddenly forlorn, hopeful expression. _Please don't let it just be me,_ she thought.

Stefanie saw Fleur's look and straight away placed her hands on Hermione. She was longer delving into the younger woman, checking for more than her immortality, and hoping the old healing hadn't been disturbed, but she finally sat back.

"And me?" asked Hermione.

"You are no longer immortal as well," said Stefanie, giving a half smile to the brunette."You had no trouble with the charm?"

"No," said Fleur. "It was all very strange, but it felt like it worked."

" _Something_ worked," said Hermione. "For us to be mortal again. Will we both rapidly age now?"

"That I do not know," said Stefanie. "This is unknown territory. I was checking on the healing I did, because I did wonder if becoming mortal again might put my old healing under threat."

"Really?" asked a worried Hermione. "I didn't think of that?!"

"But it seems fine," said Stefanie. "I didn't want to alarm you. And there's nothing to be alarmed about concerning that now, anyway."

"Well, it worked," said Hermione. "We're both very tired, I know that much."

"That will be your bodies adjusting to your new state," said Stefanie. "Not that I've ever dealt with this kind of thing before, but any big change to a body can cause tiredness or even shock."

Stefanie left and said she would check them again if and when they required it.

Hermione hugged Fleur. "So, as no one knows for sure, I might wake up tomorrow with grey hair, stiff knees and be starting my menopause!"

Fleur laughed. "Yes, we have such fun to look forward to!"

"You don't regret it?" asked Hermione.

"No. We'll grow old together...even if that stage only takes a few days to begin now!" said Fleur, staying cheerful." As long as I'm with you, I can cope with anything life throws at us."

XXXXXXXXXX

After a week, the pair went back to England and back to work at the Ministry. They didn't talk to anyone else about what had happened. Most of it wouldn't have been believed for a start, and secondly, it was a very personal experience and journey, and that was before thinking about using the charm and how on earth it _could_ be explained.

For the next few weeks and months Hermione became something of a workaholic, now mostly in her office at the Ministry, immersing herself in her work to try and process what had happened. She and Fleur talked a lot, as only the Frenchwoman had any idea what they had been through.

They settled into a more ordinary life and, although their physiology had been the same as from 1998, their bodies had begun to realize that they had been frozen in time a little, and needed to catch up. Their new mortal state meant that, in weeks, Hermione spotted the first couple of grey hairs and both she and Fleur felt they ought to cut back on the chocolate, as they were feeling a bit wider at the hips. Neither cared about it much, because they were pleased to have their lives back to somewhere near normal and it was all part of the process.

Hermione was annoyed to find that she suffered with period pains again, which seemed to drag on for a week at a time, and made her wish for her menopause more than ever. She thought she might also be having issues from her posture, sitting at her desk for hours, as her back and sides gave her trouble too. _One thing about being immortal,_ she thought one day, as an ache in her side made her have to get up and stretch. _I certainly didn't feel all these aches and pains._

As the days and weeks passed and she grew accustomed to feeling various pains - some more persistent than others - there were a small nagging set of questions and answers in Hermione's mind, on accepting her status as a mere mortal. She wondered whether getting a few grey hairs and putting on a little weight, was the true extent of it. Vanity didn't come into it much for her, but other things concerned her instead. For some reason, rapid change made her think of rapid changes to cells, and changes to cells quickly brought her to thoughts of cancer. She chased those thoughts away again. But she knew that her mother's mother had died of cancer at an age not considered to be old. She tried hard not to dwell on those thoughts.

However, the thoughts returned when, one day, Hermione had to stand up from her desk and stretch, as she had had to do many times before, to stretch her back and legs, but then she got a stitch-like pain in her side and had to lean over the desk and take a breath until it passed. Her hand went to her side, and in her mind she thought about how her internal organs might be reacting to sudden aging. She was convinced that she felt a little lumpy one side.

Was she experiencing a problem with her kidneys? Was it her gall bladder? Were the dragging feelings and pains she sometimes had, low in her stomach, some kind of problem with her bowels? After all, she was the right age group for these problems and cancers to start showing their ugly head. The amount of stress she had been exposed to in her early years, cannot have helped.

Hermione spoke to Fleur about these things, but in a general way, not wanting to worry her with her own fears. Hermione always generalized the talk about getting older and how suddenly it had happened for them, with Fleur admitting that she felt a little stiff in her legs and back, in the mornings. She had said she had felt Hermione's exhaustion and aches too, through their bond, and asked her to take more time off and lessen her work load, which Hermione agreed to.

As time went on, Hermione became more and more convinced that she had some kind of health problem and wanted to spend as much time with Fleur as she could. She hadn't dared to ask Stefanie or Sophie to check her over. She knew that was stupid, but she was so convinced that what she had was a consequence of everything, and no one could do anything to help. She didn't want to watch Fleur look at her every day, as though each minute was their last. If she were ill, then let it be quick and sudden and not give the heart-breaking drawn-out weakening and sickening, a chance to happen.

A lot of the time she felt fine, but the pains would take her unawares. When she was thinking optimistically, she considered that maybe she just had menopausal issues and irritable bowel syndrome. She hadn't worried about putting on a bit of weight and looking a bit bloated at times, as it hid that she might be more ill and Fleur didn't mind, or notice, any unusual lumps and bumps, which gave Hermione confidence. Even the part-veela had put on some weight too and they loved each other no matter how the age was affecting them. Hermione sometimes felt pain when they made love, but that only spurred her on, as reaching a climax seemed to ease any pain and make her feel better. That would then make her think it was only menopausal, and maybe she had fibroids or something, and finding release somehow eased her upset insides.

With both women working hard, they hadn't seen much of their friends for a few months, only some of the veelas when they stayed with Aimée. But they got an invitation to the Burrow, for the twenty-first birthday party of Harry and Ginny's youngest child: their daughter Lily. All the family and some of their old friends were going to be there, so Hermione and Fleur decided to go and see everyone.

Before they left their home to make their way to the Weasley's house, Hermione was feeling a bit nervous. "I haven't seen some of them for ages," said Hermione. She looked in the mirror as she brushed her hair and tied it back.

"Well, we'll probably be told that we've aged, now," said Fleur with a wry smile. "It will be a whole new experience, making them wonder what it is that's made us look older suddenly."

"We don't look _that_ old!" said Hermione.

"No, but to them it will look sudden, as we've apparently not changed in about thirty years, until now!"

"Before, they thought it was all that sex, I expect now they'll think we've gone on to drink and drugs."

"That might be fun to play with?!" said Fleur.

"I feel nervous enough as it is, without you adding to it," said Hermione, opting to go to the toilet again before they left. She had felt a pain in her side and stomach again, on sitting down on the toilet, and hoped she was able to get a comfortable chair at the Weasley's, not wanting to have to deal with that all the time they were there.

"I suppose Romilda Vane will be there?" said Fleur outside the bathroom door.

"Great! Another thing to make my day?!" said Hermione, before she flushed the loo, washed her hands and then opened the door. "Well, if you're ready we'd better make our grand entrance."

On arrival at the Burrow everyone shared a round of hugs, hand shakes and greetings. It truly seemed as though everyone was there, except Luna, who was somewhere in South America for a month. Bill was there, looking more of a rogue than ever and, with a bit of aging, he looked like an old rock star trying to reclaim his youth. He had Ulrica with him and they looked so at ease in each other's company. Teddy Lupin was there, with a more moderate hair colour today: jet black.

Ron and Romilda were there, with the latter being so pleasant, that Hermione couldn't find any fault with the woman. Ron mostly kept to conversation with Dean and Neville. Several people were present whom Hermione didn't know and were friends of Lily's and the Potters'. The Burrow was enlarged slightly, to accommodate everyone being there, including adding extra toilets.

Hermione could feel eyes upon her, as soon as she and Fleur arrived, but tried to remind herself it was probably because she hadn't seen most of the people in the room for months. She and Fleur were split up to different parts of the house, as various people came and talked with them, or wanted them to meet other people.

It was hard to think of Lily Potter as a twenty-one year old. Harry and Ginny's youngest, and already a career with the Holyhead Harpies quidditch team, following in the footsteps of her mother. And she had a job at the Ministry, or teaching quidditch at Hogwarts, waiting for her whenever she got tired of professional sport.

After only a short time Hermione began to feel tired, conversation at these events could be exhausting at the best of times. She found a seat, taking only small sips from the champagne that was flowing. They had been at the Burrow for a few hours now, but Hermione actually began to feel a bit ill. She wondered if it was the champagne, and put her current half-full glass on a side table. There didn't seem to be anything else on offer to drink.

Fleur was talking to Bill and his parents in the kitchen, when Ginny came over to sit next to Hermione. They had spoken earlier, but not for long, and not on anything more than how lovely Lily looked and what an amazingly huge birthday cake she had, which most people had been onto their third large piece of by now; not to mention all the buffet food the Weasleys and Potters had provided.

"How's life with everyone's favourite part-veela?" Ginny asked with her familiar grin.

"Fine," said Hermione. "The usual boring every day stuff that everyone else does."

"But you're both okay?"

"Yes, we're fine," said Hermione, trying to remain cheerful, when she actually felt really queasy.

"What's wrong?" asked Ginny.

"What?"

"People use the word 'fine' more than once, and as vaguely as you do, when they're hiding the opposite," said Ginny, concerned.

"I forget that you're a journalist," said Hermione with a smile.

"And _THAT_ was deflection. I've seen many a quidditch manager, or politician, pull that one on me."

"Honestly, Ginny, we're okay."

"You don't really look it," said Ginny. "I know I haven't seen you for ages, but you look..."

"Crazy?" said Hermione with a laugh.

"There you go again, _deflection_!?" said Ginny. "You can tell me anything, Hermione. I know we haven't seen each other lately but we were always like sisters. If you're ill, or Fleur is, please tell me. I can see the strain in both of you. Let me help you if I can, if it's only to listen."

Hermione picked up her champagne glass, took a sip, wished she hadn't, and put it down again. "If I told you, you wouldn't believe it."

"After everything, _we've_ seen?" said an incredulous Ginny. "Try me."

"It's complicated," said Hermione. "And...rather personal."

"I'm still listening. AND not about to publish it anywhere."

"Something happened to Fleur, and to me, back in 1998," said Hermione, then quickly carried on to stop Ginny's protest of knowing they had got together then. "After all that business. We...we...sort of became immortal." She shut her eyes, waiting to absorb the laughter, or derision, and disbelief.

"Immortal?" whispered Ginny. "Truly? This isn't some diversionary bollocks?"

"No, I'm telling you the truth," said Hermione. "But the thing is, a few months ago we...we...how do I say this? We found a way to become mortal again and it worked."

"What?!" said Ginny, then lowered her voice back to a near whisper. "You reversed it? Why would you do that?"

"Look at your daughter," said Hermione, as she and Ginny cast a gaze over to Lily, as she was cutting a slice from her huge birthday cake - which didn't really seem to be getting much smaller - for her father, Harry. "How would you feel if you knew, with certainty, that you would have to watch her die and go to her funeral?"

"Hopefully it won't ever happen," said a horrifed Ginny.

"No and I so hope it doesn't," said Hermione solemnly. "But think about it: you would see everyone you've loved die...age and pass away. Watch any children your children had, die, and their children and _their_ children and then anyone you ever got close to, after all of them had passed on, and see it repeat and repeat, leaving you alone again and again."

Ginny looked to Hermione and nodded her head in understanding.

"What seems wonderful and like the answer to a fairy tale wish, always has consequences and Fleur and I didn't want to have to face that future, and when we found a way, we reversed it."

"Is Fleur regretting it now? Or you?" asked Ginny. "Is that why you both look so strained."

"No," said Hermione, smiling. "We've finally begun to age, that's all."

"And put on weight," said Ginny.

"One can always rely on a Weasley for tact," said Hermione, chuckling.

"I've been a Potter a long time now," said Ginny, indignantly. "Although it was getting tiresome seeing you and Fleur not changing and _my_ hips spreading like my mother's!"

"You'll always be a Weasley inside." Hermione began to feel very queasy and was beginning to think she would need to go to the bathroom, her side and stomach ached and she wasn't sure if she needed to throw up, or relieve her intestines the other end.

"You okay?" asked Ginny.

"I just told you about..."

"You've gone really white," said Ginny.

"Oh," replied Hermione. "Well, I'm feeling a bit crap actually. Too much champagne and that cake was really sweet. A bit of tummy ache."

"You know where the loos are," said Ginny. "If you feel too yucky, don't feel you have to stay. It's not fun feeling ill and having to socialize."

Hermione stood up, and then felt her lower abdomen spasm painfully, which made her wince. "I really need to go now," she said, as she rushed off to the first of many loos installed in the Weasley house for that day.

Fleur had looked round to see Hermione pass her, and had sensed that her partner was uneasy and in pain through the bond, but she couldn't tell what it was. When she saw Hermione go to one of the bathrooms, she calmed herself, thinking it was either too much food or too much champagne.

Getting to the toilet in time, now more sure which end was going to cause her trouble, Hermione sat down, expecting everything she had ever eaten to pass through rapidly. All she could do was sit there and wait for it to end. She finally wiped herself and saw that the paper came away slightly blood-stained, almost like the start of her period, which was something not due for another couple of weeks. Then another pain came, like something was crushing her back and her abdomen and it nearly paralyzed her.

 _Am I dying?_ thought Hermione; all her doubts of the past few months came crashing down upon her. _Has it been a tumour all along? And it's now ruptured something? No, don't say that...maybe Stefanie could heal me...or Sophie..._

As she experienced the pain within her, she could almost visualize a solid mass attached to her bowel, or her kidney; a solid cancerous mass, finally outgrowing its space and trying to gain more space by ballooning its way past other organs, squeezing them out of the way to make more room for itself to continue growing and killing her. Except, today, maybe it had tried too hard and pushed something vital out of the way, something that was now failing her. She wiped herself again, seeing the same slightly bloody discharge. So, she used a wad of toilet paper as a make-do sanitary pad and pulled up her trousers and flushed the toilet, before putting the toilet lid down and sitting on it, feeling despair.

A knock came on the door. "Hermione, it's me," said Fleur. "Are you ill?"

For a moment Hermione couldn't answer. She realized that Fleur could probably feel her pain and worry. _What do I tell Fleur?_ She thought. _It was my idea to be mortal again...and this could mean I leave her sooner..._

"Hermione?" said a more worried Fleur.

Again Hermione didn't answer, as she didn't know how to.

"I'm coming in," said Fleur, as she unlocked the door magically, walked in, closing and locking the door behind her. She looked at Hermione and saw how pale and troubled she looked. "Hermione?"

"I...I don't know what's happening to me," said Hermione, her voice close to breaking. "I...I think there's something seriously wrong with me, and I don't...ahhh..." She broke off as another wave of pain coursed through her, which then made her shiver, like she hadn't done for years.

"I'm taking you back to Stefanie," said Fleur.

"We can't just leave...we..."

"No arguments, we're leaving!" Fleur walked back to the door, opened it and went into the hallway and called for Bill. He was soon there.

"Hermione's unwell, we need to leave now, and not be held back with questions," said Fleur. "I hate having to leave you to explain things, but could you let the others know, I've taken her back home."

"Sure," said Bill. "Like old times?! What is it? Migraine, or virus, or not holding her booze?"

"I don't know," said Fleur.

Bill saw the worried expression on his ex-wife's face, and dropped all humour from his demeanour. He leaned forward and hugged her. "Hey, you know I'm always here for you. If you need anything, ask me, yeah?"

"Thanks, Bill," said Fleur, genuinely grateful.

The Frenchwoman went back into the bathroom to find that Hermione was still in pain and shivering, holding her arms around herself to try and get warm. "It's all sorted, we're leaving," said Fleur, as she wrapped her arms around Hermione and Side-Along Apparated them to her grandmother's house, straight to the bedroom that Hermione had first stayed in, which was always free for them to use.

Fleur lifted a pain-wracked Hermione onto the bed, and quickly ran across the landing and down the stairs, calling for anyone who was in the house. In the kitchen she found Sophie reading a book at the table, who had then stood up, to find out why Fleur had suddenly arrived unannounced and was dashing around.

"Is my Grandma or Stefanie here?"

"No, they're at a meeting in the community," said Sophie. "What's wrong?"

"It's Hermione," said Fleur. "She's in a lot of pain. She's upstairs. We don't know what's wrong."

"Send your patronus to bring Aimée and Stefanie back," said Sophie, as she quickly made her way upstairs to see Hermione.

Hermione was on her side curled up, her arms still hugging herself as she shivered and battled the waves of pain, and with embarrassment she could feel that the toilet paper wad hadn't been enough and she was probably bleeding more now; it certainly felt like it, but she didn't have the energy to try and hide it, or make an excuse for it.

Sophie went to her. "Will you let me take a look at you? Until the others get back?"

Hermione nodded. "I...I don't know what's...hap...happening."

"Did you eat something different, or drink something?" asked Sophie as she reached for Hermione's wrist and felt her racing pulse.

"I might have had a little too much champagne and maybe cake...but nothing weird," said Hermione grimacing. "I had bad diarrhea...but I think I'm bleeding...when I shouldn't be. I've been getting pains for months, in my side, stomach and back...I know what it is...it can only be...a tumour. My Grandmother...she had..."

"Let's not think about that, now," said Sophie, reassuringly. "Can you lie on your back for me?"

Sophie lifted up Hermione's shirt and as she undid the waist of Hermione's trousers, she could see from the damp patch at the crotch that the woman had either wet herself, or was indeed bleeding. Feeling so much compassion for her younger friend, she gently pressed a hand along Hermione's upper and lower abdomen, trying to feel for any lumps and bumps that shouldn't be there. As she pressed lower, Hermione yelled in pain, her whole body going tense, but Sophie continued her examination.

Fleur rushed in with Stefanie and Aimée behind her. "She's worse?" asked Fleur, worried. "Please, help her..."

Sophie had finished her initial examination and took Stefanie to one side and whispered something in her ear, which made Stefanie stand back with a frown. Sophie whispered something further, which left Stefanie lightly shaking her head, and putting a hand to her chin in thought, before giving a resigned sigh.

"What is it?" asked Fleur.

"It _IS_ a tumour, isn't it?" said Hermione, through almost gritted teeth. "It's a tumour and it's killing me, right now, isn't it?"

"You can do something, can't you?" said Fleur, tears beginning to well in her eyes, shocked to her very core at hearing the word 'tumour' in any way connected to her partner. "You can deal with tumours, can't you?!"

"Not always," said Stefanie, calmly. "And in this case..."

"You _have_ to do something," said Fleur despairingly. "There must be _something_!?"

A grave-looking Stefanie put a hand on Fleur's shoulder. "In this case, anything I might be able to do for a tumour wouldn't work."

"What?" asked a confused Fleur. "But she's in pain...you _have_ to do _something_?!"

"And we _will_ be doing something, because now we need to help Hermione deliver your baby," said Stefanie, giving a smile now.

"WHAT?!" Hermione nearly shrieked in exclamation. "But...but you said we couldn't. You said it was impossible?! I've had periods and everything, and I don't even look pregnant! I'm a bit more porky around the hips, and a little bloated at times, but not damn well _pregnant_!?"

"Still not impossible," said Sophie. "I've had muggle women patients who never needed to change dress sizes while pregnant and those who still had periods and, like you now, thought they were dying instead of actually going into labour. I think you'll find that your waters broke, not anything more sinister."

Hermione looked to Fleur with a frightened, despairing look. "My love, I haven't slept with...I...I haven't been unfaithful. I..."

"I know you haven't," said Fleur, in shock herself and not for one moment thinking Hermione would have been unfaithful to her and most certainly not with a guy. Not knowing what to do she held her partner's hand and brought it to her lips to kiss the knuckles.

"I'm...I'm not ready," said Hermione, feeling more fear than she had felt in years.

"Which is why we're here," said Stefanie. "After everything you two have been through and experienced, I suppose we should have expected the unexpected and in an unconventional manner, in every way. I have a feeling that having a piece of Fleur's soul within you was just enough veela to make this possible."

They made Hermione as comfortable as possible and ready for her labour, getting her to breathe correctly and getting her to feel the contractions more perceptibly. Fleur held her hand, which was already feeling very bruised, while Stefanie and Sophie kept an eye on everything and Aimée made sure they had a supply of cold cloths, towels and hot or cold drinks as needed. As it was mostly an ordinary muggle birth, Sophie became the main medical carer.

After a couple of hours of pushing and resting, Hermione was exhausted and still in a state of shock that she wasn't dying but giving birth to a child. Sophie told her that the shivering she continued to experience, in a lesser form, was mostly her body, and now her mind, in shock.

"Another couple of pushes," said Sophie a short time later. "When you feel the contractions."

Hermione did as she was told, sweat pouring off her. "It's soon got to be over!? Please let it be over?!"

"I can see the head," said Sophie, as she leaned over between Hermione's legs. Another push later and she said, "The head is out. We need one more big push."

"Why don't _you_ bloody push!?" snapped Hermione.

Fleur's eyes nearly popped out of her head, but Sophie laughed. "I'm used to it. That's quite mild compared to some of the things..." Sophie didn't get to finish her sentence, as she was gently supporting the baby's head and Hermione almost growled, and pushed again, and the baby was easily pulled free.

A few moments later, with the initial medical checks done and a little clean-up, a newborn baby girl was placed into Hermione's exhausted arms. The brunette had tears running down her tired sweaty face, and she was shaking slightly again, so Stefanie wrapped a blanket around Hermione's shoulders.

"I can't believe it," said Hermione, looking down at the wrapped bundle, which emitted the occasional normal baby noise every so often.

"My darling, you did it," said Fleur, as she kissed Hermione's forehead.

" _We_ did it," said Hermione. "It...it worked. What we did worked. I never thought..."

Fleur was crying now too, as she held Hermione and laid a hand on her daughter. The other three women in the room were wiping away tears of joy as well.

"You'll have to think of a name," said Aimée.

"I don't know," said Hermione. "A few hours ago I thought I was dying. I hadn't considered we'd need to be naming something?!"

Sophie and Stefanie had finished attending to Hermione's medical needs and saw that, with no trouble, the little girl had latched onto one of Hermione's breasts, when she opened her shirt, and had seemed to get the idea of breastfeeding with no need for coaxing. Hermione had thought her slightly enlarged breasts was just weight gain, not ever imagining that her body was preparing for motherhood. The three older women then decided to leave the little family alone for a while, for some privacy.

Hermione kept looking at the baby she held, in disbelief, then she looked to Fleur, with a little frown. "You're okay with this, aren't you?"

Fleur started laughing, then crying again. "Of course I'm okay with this. Tough if I wasn't! She's arrived!"

"I never thought this would ever happen," said Hermione. "I feel such a fool for not knowing. I had all these aches and pains for months...and I thought..."

"Why didn't you talk to me?"

"I tried to, but I didn't want to worry you," said Hermione. "I was convinced I had a tumour growing, or something going wrong, because of becoming mortal again and..."

"...and I would want to know and help you. "

"... _and_ I couldn't face breaking your heart by telling you," admitted Hermione. "I hoped it would be sudden, so you didn't have to know it was coming. Shit, I'm such a bloody fool..."

"I still would have wanted to know. I felt you were not at your best for a while, but I thought it was just tiredness from work and those aches and pains of age," said Fleur, her voice breaking slightly. "We've been through so much together and that's the point: we've been through it _together._ Don't hide something like this from me. However hard it is, we're stronger together."

"I'm sorry, my love," said Hermione. "My head was a mess. I haven't dealt with it at all well, and I can see that now. I suppose I also didn't want to say anything to you, because it would have made it more real. I didn't dare talk to Sophie or Stefanie...and...and I wasn't ready to...leave you. I know we chose to be mortal again, but I expected more than a few more months with you...I..."

"Hey, shhh," said Fleur, pressing kisses to Hermione's cheek, lips and forehead. "It doesn't matter, now."

"It's so crazy that I never thought I was pregnant?!" said Hermione. "I mean, I had my periods still, so why would I think I was pregnant? Especially after what Stefanie said. _How_ was I to know?"

"I think everything was a little different because of the rare circumstances of the conception and everything," offered Fleur. "Nothing about this was going to be 'normal' exactly. I'm sure it worked on you because you have a piece of my soul, and that was enough veela within you to make that charm recognize the purpose."

"I would say that's the most likely explanation," answered Hermione. "I used to read about women that went into labour, without knowing they were pregnant, and think they were either lying or plain stupid, because there's no way you wouldn't know? But _now_?! Wow!"

"I love you, Hermione," said Fleur, as she leaned in and pressed her lips to Hermione's again, she then kissed their sleeping baby's forehead. "I love you both."

Fleur held their baby for a while so Hermione could take a short nap. The Frenchwoman was having trouble believing that she held a child in her arms, and not only that, a child that was both her's and Hermione's. She spent ages just looking at the face of their child and the perfectly formed fingers. She considered that it would definitely take some explaining to others.

 _They'll either think Hermione has been unfaithful with some man, or that we used the muggle artificial thing I've heard about._ Fleur thought.

"You're wondering what we're going to tell people?" said Hermione, as she stirred from her nap.

"Reading my mind again?" said Fleur with a smile.

"We'll do what your grandmother does in difficult situations: we'll say it's something veela," said Hermione, with a laugh. "That's usually enough to confuse, satisfy and scare off further comment."

"Yeah, that might just work!" Fleur chuckled. "What are we going to call her?"

"I thought about that while I took my nap."

"You think while you nap?" Fleur raised an eyebrow and shook her head. "Of course you do!"

"I was thinking through names, to thank people and give continuity," said Hermione. "Do you have any?"

"No, I haven't really thought about it," admitted Fleur.

"What about: Catherine Aimée Stefanie Sophie Luna Delacour?" said Hermione.

"You'd use my last name?" Fleur had changed her name back from Weasley to Delacour, not long after her official divorce to Bill had gone through. She had told him that it wasn't to hurt him and in some ways it was to free them both from any guilt and make their futures simpler.

"Why not? It's your child too, and it was the veela part of you that saved us in many ways, many times, and the veela part of you that made any of this possible," said Hermione. "Are you okay with Catherine for her first name?"

"Yes," said Fleur, nodding, as she looked into the face of her daughter. "It's the child the Catherine we know, never had with Sister Marguerite, and without Catherine none of us would be here. I think it's a lovely name."

"We can always shorten it to Kate, or Katie, or Cathy," said Hermione. "However she turns out."

"Well," said Fleur, looking serious. "With our brains and good looks, she can't go wrong!"

Catherine let out a little cry and Hermione took back her daughter and settled her on her chest, opening her shirt and seeing if it was the breast the baby wanted. Watching it made Fleur feel so connected to them both.

"I might get a little jealous of her," said Fleur, with a smile she couldn't hide.

Hermione looked up with a crooked grin. "You will have me back soon enough. It won't be forever...especially if I get sore like I've heard some mums do. Then you'll get 'them' back a lot sooner."

Fleur leaned over and gently kissed Hermione on the lips, while she trained a hand down to Hermione's open shirt to lightly hold the free, swollen breast, running her thumb over the old scar her partner still had from the incident with Joan of Arc's sword. "You're so beautiful," said Fleur, as she looked into the brunette's eyes. "Both of you, are so beautiful." She kissed her daughter's cheek as the baby suckled on Hermione's nipple, then she pressed a very light kiss to Hermione's other breast over the scar.

When they told the others, the names they had chosen, it touched the women deeply and Fleur and Hermione decided, at that moment, that they wanted to bring up their daughter in the veela community, as much as possible, enjoying the peace and home comforts of their cottage.

And few days after the birth, once both sets of grandparents had seen little Catherine - the Grangers being Side-Along Apparated to France by Aimée - Hermione and Fleur entered their cottage and Hermione gave a deep sigh and felt tears welling up. Fleur settled their daughter into a beautifully ornate wooden cradle, that the community had made for them as a gift, and then wrapped her arms around her partner.

"I'm so happy," said Hermione. "I love you so much and I love our daughter."

"And I love you both too," said Fleur. "We've been allowed to make our own little family and I've never felt so lucky and privileged in all my life, as I do now. I get everything."

"Exactly," said Hermione. "I get everything I ever wanted, and I didn't even know I wanted them, until I got them. And now I can't imagine life being different, or wanting it to be so. I'm...I'm not sure..."

"What aren't you sure about?" asked a concerned Fleur.

"I'm not sure it would work a second time."

"A second time? Oh, my love, this is a miracle enough! I wouldn't put you through that again, even if it were possible. I don't want to risk anything by messing with charms and theories any longer; we have a daughter to think about now: a daughter I never thought we'd ever have. We need nothing else...just each other and her. We'll bring her up, as well as we can, and she'll have so many aunts and uncles fussing around her, and all we'll have to do is make sure she isn't too spoiled!"

The women held each other for a few silent moments.

"I'd understand if you wanted to live in England more, to be near your home and parents," offered Fleur.

Hermione stepped back from their embrace and cupped Fleur's cheek. "We have the advantage of fast travel to see them whenever we want to, but this is my home now. _You_ are my home. Wherever you and little Catherine are, is my home. And here has been so important in our lives. It feels so right."

And that is where they stayed and began their lives as a family.

THE END

 **A/N: For the record, I dislike stories with babies/kids...not exactly into kids in real life, give me kittens and puppies any day. But I'd never used the idea in any story, so along with my dislike of strange penis manifestations(LOL), I thought I'd try writing it for once. I think it works here...just.**

 **Oh and the weird pregnancy is based on a couple of people in my family. One was convinced they had a tumour and the other hardly changed dress size throughout their pregnancy. Fact is stranger than fiction...mostly. :)**


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